


Not If I Save You First

by 221b_ee



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: F/F, Kid Fic, also one cool new edit, also they're both american here, and tahani's dad is her secret service guard, eleanor is the president's daughter, for the sake of convenience, the whole thing is finally written out!! which means a regular posting schedule is in the works kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2019-09-15 03:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 33,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16925448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221b_ee/pseuds/221b_ee
Summary: Tahani thought that she and Eleanor would be best friends forever. But when your dad is a Secret Service agent and your friend is the President's daughter, sometimes life has other plans. Before Tahani knows it, her dad is dragging her to a cabin in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness and into a totally different life.No phone.No Internet.And not a single word from Eleanor.Tahani tells herself it’s okay. After all, she’s the most popular girl for twenty miles in any direction. (She’s also the only girl for twenty miles in any direction.) She has wood to cut and weapons to bedazzle. Her life is full.Until Eleanor shows up six years later . . .And Tahani wants to kill her.But before that can happen, an assailant appears out of nowhere, knocking Tahani down a cliff and dragging Eleanor to some unknown fate. Tahani knows she could turn back and get help. But the weather is turning and the terrain will only get more treacherous, the animals more deadly.Tahani still really wants to kill Eleanor. But she has to save her first.





	1. Chapter 1

_Dear Tahani,_

_There’s a party tomorrow night at my house. Mom said I could invite a friend if I wanted to. Do you want to come?_

___YES_  
__NO  
__MAYBE 

_Eleanor  
_

Tahani Al-Jamil had absolutely no intention of invading the White House. But if she had wanted to, she knew seven different ways to do so. It really wasn’t as hard as everyone thought. Eleanor had lived there less than a year, and she and Tahani had already found four tunnels, two pseudo-secret passageways, and a cabinet near the kitchen that smelled faintly of expensive cheese and only partially blocked an old service elevator that really wasn’t as boarded up as everybody thought. 

“Charlie?” Tahani asked the big man in the passenger seat of the SUV. He turned to look at where she sat, seatbelt snugly around her, even though _everyone_ knew silk wrinkled and this was the prettiest silk dress Tahani had ever worn before. 

She’d already complained about it, but Charlie had told her that it was either wear a seatbelt or walk, and Tahani was wearing brand-new black leather shoes that were already starting to pinch her feet, and Eleanor had told her there might be dancing later, and she didn’t want to miss that just because her feet hurt. 

“Whatcha need, Tahani?” Charlie asked as Walter drove on. 

“Did you know that there’s a place under the stairs that’s just _full_ of spiders that died during the Nixon administration? At least, that’s what Eleanor told me. Do you think that’s true? I don’t think it is. At least, I hope it’s not true. How horrible would that be?” she said, not really waiting for Charlie to answer. 

“I could ask dad,” she continued, “but he didn’t work here then. Or anyways I don’t think he worked here then. That was a really long time ago… but he is really old. Like really really old. Do you think he’s old enough to have worked her then?” Charlie laughed, although Tahani wasn’t really sure why. 

“I don’t know, but I think you should ask him, exactly like that,” he said. That sounded like a good idea to Tahani. 

“Thank you, Charlie, I’ll do that,” she said. She stopped to think for a moment, her thoughts whirling onwards as they sometimes did when she was excited. “Did you know that there’s an air duct that you can reach the Oval Office in from the Lincoln room that’s absolutely full of dead spiders?” she said. “It’s disgusting, when Eleanor and I crawled through it I ruined my favorite pair of pink leggings and we found a spider in my hair afterwards.” 

“You can reach the Oval Office via the air ducts?” Charlie said, spinning to look at her. She nodded. 

“Eleanor bet that I couldn’t do it, but I did. She was really impressed when I did it, she didn’t think I’d make it through the spiders part in my pink leggings. Don’t tell her, but I didn’t either. I almost turned back as soon as I crawled up there, because it was so dusty. But I figured, I already had gotten dirt on my knees… if my leggings were already ruined then why not finish it out right?” 

“You should definitely tell your dad about that,” Charlie said, brow creased. 

“I don’t think he’d care that my leggings were ruined. Although maybe he would buy me another pair…” said Tahani. 

“Not about the leggings, about the duct… you know what, never mind, I’ll tell him.” Tahani shrugged. 

When they finally reached a pair of tall iron gates Tahani was so excited for the party and to see Eleanor that she couldn’t help but to swing her legs so dramatically that she kicked the back of Charlie’s seat, but Charlie just rolled down his window and told the man with the clipboard “We have a VIP guest for Eleanor.” 

The guard looked in the back seat and smiled when he saw Tahani. Through the tinted windows she could see other guards circling the vehicle. Dogs sniffed around the bumpers, but the guard kept his eyes on her. 

“Looks like a high-risk entrant to me, boys. I don’t know that we should let her in.” Tahani frowned. 

“No, I have my invitation right here, Felix! Besides, my dad works with the President. I’m not high-risk! You should let me in,” she said. Felix laughed and held out his hand for the letter Eleanor had written her that asked if she wanted to come. She passed it forward and held her breath as he inspected it with a frown. 

“Looks like it’s all in order,” he said finally. Tahani released the breath she’d been holding and he grinned at her. “Have fun, kiddo!” 

 

Eleanor never had fun at parties. In her experience, they very rarely meant pizza and presents and bounce houses. Not anymore, anyways. Sure, there was usually cake, but it was always very tiny, ornate pieces, and her mom always gave her The Look if she ate more than three. And ever since the time she had asked the prime minister of Canada if she was going to eat her cake, she wasn’t allowed to sit at the table with her parents. 

Which, in Eleanor’s opinion, was just as well. 

“Is Tahani here yet?” she asked her mother. 

“I don’t know… is she under the bed?” Eleanor’s mother grinned and glanced through the bathroom door to the canopy bed on which Eleanor lay. 

“No, we don’t fit.” 

“I’m not going to ask how you know that,” said her mother, going back to fixing her makeup. The phone rang a moment later, and her mother answered it. 

“Yes? Excellent. Send her up.” 

“Is Tahani-”

“She’s on her way up,” her mother told her, and Eleanor flew off the bed, out into the hallway, and down the stairs. 

The farther she got from her mother, the more chaotic everything became. There were people with huge bunches of flowers and staffers running up and down the stairs in high heels. But all Eleanor really saw was Tahani. 

“Tani!!” Eleanor screamed from the landing she stood on. “You look…” 

“Is my dress too wrinkled?” Tahani blurted out, as though the answer mattered. Eleanor shook her head. 

“I don’t think so. It’s…” her voice trailed off as she followed Tahani’s gaze through the bulletproof window. The chaos of the building all but disappeared as a helicopter landing on the lawn. A group of men and women were running toward the house, crouching low beneath the helicopter’s spinning blades. Only the last two men off the chopper walked upright, laughing and talking as they strolled towards the doors. 

Eleanor turned to Tahani. “Dad’s home.” 

Tahani couldn’t be sure whether Eleanor was talking about her dad or Tahani's own, but the statement was true either way. There was no denying that as the two dads entered the house, the place went a little more -- and a little less -- crazy. There was an energy that always surrounded Eleanor’s father. Some people stopped. Some people stared. But there was another group of people who seemed to constantly swirl and swarm around him, like a hive of bees caught inside a series of tornadoes, spinning in his orbit while everyone else got out of the way. 

Everyone except Eleanor’s mom. She didn’t spin or rush or stare as she walked towards her husband, her red dress flowing behind her as she moved down the stairs. 

“You’re late,” she said. 

“Mr President,” one of his assistants cut in. “The speakers are waiting for you.” 

“They can wait until the president has kissed his wife and hugged his daughter and… changed into something decent,” the first lady told the woman. And with that, the tiny tornadoes dissipated into other parts of the White House. 

“Hello, darling,” said Eleanor’s dad as he leaned down to kiss her. When he pulled away she made a face and said “You smell.” 

His gaze shifted to Tahani. “What are we going to do with her, Tahani?” 

Tahani could only shake her head. “Boys always smell,” she said truthfully. 

“You’ll get used to it, sweetheart,” Eleanor’s mom told her. Tahani doubted it, but she didn’t say anything. Meanwhile, Eleanor’s dad didn’t seem to mind. He reached for his daughter and said “Hey, kiddo.” Then he turned to Tahani. “Kiddette.” 

Tahani dropped into a graceful curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Eleanor’s dad.” 

“And you, al-Jamil’s daughter.” The president bowed at the waist. “You’re a far lovelier sight than your father, I can assure you.” 

“Thank you. My dress wasn’t wrinkled when I put it on, you know. The wrinkles are entirely Charlie’s fault." 

“I’ll have a word with Charlie,” the president said gravely as Tahani’s dad tried to pull her into a hug. She pulled away, making a face. 

“You’re right, they do stink,” Tahani said to the first lady. 

“This is what I get for keeping the president safe?” Tahani’s dad asked. 

“From treasonous deer? It’s hard work, I’m sure.” The first lady turned to her husband. “Now do I need to remind the par of you that the Russian prime minister and his entire entourage, your entire cabinet, and all seven viewers of C-SPAN are expecting our very first state dinner to commence in 45 minutes?” 

Eleanor’s dad cut a look at Tahani’s. “Save me from her, al-Jamil.” 

But Tahani’s father just shook his head. “Sorry, Mr President. This time you’re on your own.” 

It wasn’t until the first lady dragged the president upstairs that Tahani felt Eleanor stir beside her. She’d been perfectly quiet - perfectly still - as if content to be a mere fly on the wall in her father’s presence. 

Then her father asked “How are you doing, Rascal?” and Eleanor’s eyes got bigger. 

“Did my dad really kill a deer?” Tahani’s father shook his head. 

“No, we saw one but he was more interested in getting a vote out of the senator for Kentucky.” Eleanor looked confused. 

“You had a gun, why didn’t you shoot it?” Tahani’s father seemed to think this was an excellent question. He leaned in. 

“Because when I shoot, it isn’t for fun,” he said. 

“It’s because you have to,” said Eleanor. 

Tahani’s father nodded. “And what’s more important than being a good shot?” he asked. 

Eleanor only had to think about it for a moment. “Making sure you don’t have to.” 

Tahani’s father nodded, tousling Eleanor’s light blond waves. “That’s right.” He stood up. “Now, I really do have to go shower. What are you two going to do for the next 45 minutes?” Eleanor and Tahani looked at each other and gave two simultaneous identical shrugs. “Fine, don’t tell me. Just stay in the house and stay out of the way. It’s crazy in here.” 

“We noticed,” said Eleanor as he left. 

Tahani was used to being basically invisible, but Eleanor had been in the spotlight so often in the last year that Tahani could see that it was somewhat of a new, though not entirely unwelcome, feeling as they walked through the chaos of the White House. Doors slammed and phones rang, but nobody noticed the first daughter and her friend, even when Eleanor said “In here” and punched numbers into a keypad beside a door that Tahani had never noticed before. When the door sprang open, she pulled Tahani into a hallway that was totally and completely silent. 

“That’s better,” she said, smiling at Tahani. 

“Are we supposed to be in here?” 

Eleanor shrugged. “Probably not, but if they really wanted to keep us out, they shouldn’t have let me see them punch in the code that one time.” Tahani grinned, the mild thrill of rebellion with her best friend making her fingers and toes tingle. Besides, Eleanor made an excellent point. Everyone knew that Eleanor was very good at remembering things, from phone numbers and access codes to where the White House kept its chocolate. It had been Tahani’s experience that the White House kept an excellent store of chocolate. And that’s what she was thinking about as they walked down the long, silent hallway that led to the kitchens, when three men came rushing down the silent hallway, pushing a massive cart and paying absolutely no mind to the two ten-year-olds who stood in their way. 

Eleanor said “Excuse me.” But Tahani’s dad’s job didn’t depend on her being polite to people, so she muttered “How rude!” as they passed. 

For a moment, Eleanor and Tahani stood, shocked, in the once-more quiet hallway. Then Tahani thought of where they were standing. “Are they supposed to be here?” 

Eleanor grimaced. “Russian security. The Russian delegation said they would only eat food prepared by their chef. They had to bring it in and keep it under armed guard and everything.” Tahani made a face. 

“I wouldn’t like that. Eating cold food just because someone might want to kill me.” She was about to say something else too, when suddenly Eleanor reached into her pocket and blurted “Here!” as she thrust a little blue box towards her. 

“What’s this?” Tahani asked, taking it and opening it. Inside was a golden charm bracelet, with beautifully wrought charms dangling from it every few links. 

“A gift,” Eleanor said. “For you.” 

“You got me a gift? Why?” Tahani demanded. Eleanor rolled her eyes. 

“Because you’re my friend, obviously,” she said. 

“Do you get gifts this nice for all your friends?” Tahani demanded. Even in the bright fluorescent lighting a shadow seemed to cross Eleanor’s face. 

“You’re my only friend,” she said, and Tahani didn’t ask any more questions. 

“It’s so shiny,” she said, looking down at the bracelet. 

“Do you like it?” Eleanor asked nervously. 

“I love it,” said Tahani. Eleanor helped her put it on, fastening the clasp for her. 

“It’s a little big,” she told her. “But I wanted it to fit when you were older too.” 

“I’ll never take it off,” said Tahani, and in that moment she meant it with all her heart. A silence stretched between them, words unspoken, and Eleanor had to look away, like staring at Tahani wearing the bracelet she’d given her was like staring at the sun. She blinked. 

“Well, I suppose we should get back-” 

“What are you two doing here?” The first lady’s voice echoed down the tiled hall, cutting Eleanor off. 

“We’re staying out of the way,” Tahani announced. She had been doing a very good job of it and thought it was high time that some grown-up should be bragging about them for their discretion. 

“That’s a good plan,” said the first lady. “It’s a zoo out there.” 

“Mom, do Tahani and I have to go?” Eleanor asked. “Couldn’t we just watch TV in the residence or something?” When the first lady looked at them, her eyes were a little sad, as though she wished she could give them a normal night in a normal home. But they weren’t in a normal home, and she couldn’t pretend life would be normal for Eleanor ever again. 

“You could watch TV,” the first lady said. “But I’m afraid tonight is a very important night for your father. Our relations with Russia are… strained. And he thinks that if you and I also attend, it might seem like more of a family thing than a political thing. Does that make sense?” Eleanor’s shoulder drooped, but she nodded. 

“Yeah, it does,” she agreed. “Why are you down here then instead of getting ready up there? Were you looking for us?” 

“No.” She smoothed the part of Eleanor’s hair that never did lie flat. “The kitchen called. They said there’s some sort of problem, although why they need me I’m not exactly sure. By the way, I like your bracelet, Tahani.” 

Tahani smiled. “I like your dress.” 

“Me too. Mainly because it does this-” When the first lady started to spin, the long wisps of red fabric lifted and began to float about her like tendrils of a cloud. Tahani gasped. 

“It’s a twirling dress!” she exclaimed. 

“I know!” said the first lady, sounding like a ten-year-old herself. Eleanor looked like she had no clue at all why they were so excited, but she didn’t say anything. “Well, I’d better go see what they wanted so we can get this show on the road. You two should head that way. We’ll be ready to start soon.” 

“Yes ma’am,” said Tahani as the first lady walked away. 

Tahani moved her wrist so that the bracelet jangled, noisy in the again quiet hallway, making the two girls suddenly extremely aware that they were alone. They’d been alone dozens of times in the past year, but this was a different kind than they had ever felt before. Tahani sneaked a glance at Eleanor, who was watching her jangle her bracelet; the other girl looked up, returning her gaze, and Tahani felt that there was something she needed to say, although she wasn’t quite sure what. 

Eleanor broke the silence, holding out her arm and saying, “Well, my lady, shall we?” Tahani laughed and curtsied, taking her arm and turning with her to walk back down the hallway. They didn’t talk; they didn’t laugh. They simply walked towards the fanciest party in the country, arm in arm, as though they weren’t two ten-year-olds. 

This time, they heard the three men before they saw it. The cart made a rattling, squeaky noise as it rolled over the tiles, and Tahani and Eleanor knew to move out of the way. The Russians, it seemed, liked to take their half of the hallway out of the middle, so the two girls pressed against the wall, still arm in arm, and Tahani felt the cool of the tile through the thin fabric of her dress. 

The men were shouting, loud and fast, in Russian, and Tahani pressed against Eleanor, slightly afraid for reasons she didn’t understand. Two of the Russians seemed really young, in their twenties maybe. They had short, dark hair, and wore expensive suits with ugly ties. One of them pointed to the door, which seemed a mile away, and Tahani caught a glimpse of a red tattoo on his wrist of a two-headed bird being eaten by a dog. Her first thought was to wonder why anyone would want something that ugly inked onto their skin forever. 

Her next thought was that Eleanor’s arm muscles had suddenly gone tight. Tahani’s hand hurt as Eleanor bent her arm, squeezing her fingers in the crook of the other girl’s elbow. Eleanor didn’t seem to notice, however. As the men passed, one of them - the one with the tattoo - looked right at Eleanor. Paused for a moment, recognizing her. Shouted something in Russian. Then winked. Not a teasing, playful wink; and right then, Tahani’s head realized what her gut had known all along. These men weren’t Russian Secret Service agents. She knew it in her bones, in her blood. 

So who were they? 

And why were they here? 

Suddenly, Tahani’s throat felt tight, her heart pounding. “Eleanor…” she started, but her voice trailed off as she followed Eleanor’s gaze. The Russians were pushing their cart, which seemed heavier now, towards the loading dock’s doors. Tahani wondered, if they were bringing the delegation’s meals in, why would their cart be heavier on the way out than on the way in? 

And then she saw it: the piece of gauzy red fabric that protruded from under the cart’s metal door, twisting and blowing in the breeze. “Eleanor!” she gasped, but Eleanor was already acting. From inside her cardigan she pulled out the tiny button she kept on her at all times. She pushed it, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then suddenly Tahani heard her dad’s voice from behind her. His hair was wet, dripping onto his black suit and making little stains. 

“Eleanor! There you two are, I was beginning to wonder.” Then he paused. “What is it?” Eleanor was trembling now. They could still hear the rattling of the cart as the Russians broke into a run. 

“My mom… they have-” 

Sirens were beginning to blare and Tahani’s dad was already breaking away, withdrawing his gun. Tahani had seen her dad’s gun many times, but not like this, not as an extension of his arm, a far colder and deadlier limb. 

“You two. Hide!” her dad yelled as he started to run. 

And the Russians started to fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl I totally ripped this from a book by Ally Carter of the same name. A 12 year old I babysit recommended this book to me and while it wasn't my favorite (main character got on my nerves, and I really just don't love Ally Carter's writing style honestly, also there was a really weird twist at the end that I hated and will be excluding from this work), I did enjoy the plot outline, and it popped to me as totally an elhani fic. So here we are!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmfao hi everyone, I literally just forgot I was writing this despite the fact that I already had the first four chapters written up. Sorry bout that.

Tahani knew what her father’s job was. In fact, it had been her grandfather’s job even before that. Turns out, she came from a long line of people who were made to run _towards_ the shots -- to step in front of the bullets. 

She’d just never really understood why. 

But then Eleanor’s mom was in a food cart and Tahani's dad was ducking behind a tall stack of water bottles wrapped in plastic, shooting the gun she’d never seen him fire. 

It all happened in a second. 

And it seemed to take a year. 

“Daddy!” Tahani screamed, even though she knew not to distract him, not to get in his way. 

“Tahani!” She felt Eleanor’s hand on her arm, heard her own name coming from Eleanor’s lips. But her father was still running towards active gunmen, and something about that seemed so fundamentally wrong that for a moment, she could only stand there, waiting. 

All through the White House, sirens blared. Eleanor’s panic button had a GPS tracker, Tahani knew, so the rest of the Secret Service would be there soon. They were probably already barricading the gates and blocking the exits. The president would be halfway to his underground bunker by now. But Tahani was still standing in that corridor, watching her father run. Fire. Fall. 

One of the Russians was down. Tahani could see him sprawled at the end of the hallway. 

Blood streaked across the floor, and Tahani couldn’t help herself. 

“Daddy!” she yelled again. She wanted to run to him, but Eleanor’s grip on her arm was too tight. 

Her new charm bracelet bit into her wrist as Eleanor yanked her into a doorway that offered a little bit of cover. She should have been running, dragging the first daughter in the opposite direction, into safety. But Tahani couldn’t take her gaze off her father. 

He was up again, limping and firing more. At the end of the corridor, a door opened. Bright light flooded the hall and there was shouting and running, more agents filing in from that direction. Behind her, Tahani heard the heavy tread of running feet. The cavalry was coming. The Russians were surrounded. But an animal is never more dangerous than when it’s trapped. 

One lone Russian remained. For a moment, he was just a dark shape, silhouetted against the glare of the lights. He stood perfectly still as he raised his gun and pointed it directly at Tahani’s father. 

Then the man smiled, and, as though it was pulled by a magnet, the gun moved to point directly at where Tahani and Eleanor stood huddled together. 

The man shouted something in Russian, the words echoing off the hard, tiled walls and floors. Tahani couldn’t understand what he said, but she knew what it meant: 

That it wasn’t over. 

That his cause was just. 

That, someday, all of civilization was going to know his name. 

For a second, the world stood still, and then he pulled the trigger just as Tahani’s father jumped between the man and Eleanor 

And fired. 

At first, the Russian stood, gaping, as though he couldn’t fathom that anyone would dare to get in his way. To fire back. To go against whatever master plan had brought him here in the first place. 

Then he looked down at his chest, at the place where blood was beginning to seep from beneath his tie, and he dropped to his knees. Then to the floor. 

He didn’t move again. 

“Eleanor!” somebody shouted, and Tahani felt the world move again as the Secret Service swarmed around them. 

“The first lady,” Tahani’s father gasped, still trying to drag himself to the food cart. Blood trailed behind him, and Tahani couldn’t be held back any longer. She pulled away from Eleanor just in time to hear someone say “Eleanor and Tahani, you two stay right there!” 

A veritable wall of Secret Service agents loomed before her, blocking her way to her father. Tahani knew that Charlie wasn’t trying to keep her from danger, or from her father, instead trying to keep her from seeing things no ten-year-old should ever have to see, but she didn’t care. She squirmed between legs and arms and crawled almost desperately to where her father lay on the floor. 

There was so much blood. She was going to ruin her dress. 

But just at that moment Tahani didn’t care, so she crawled faster. When one of the agents tried to pick her up and stop her, she kicked as hard as she could and continued on. 

Meanwhile, two agents were pulling the first lady from the cart. She was limp and deathly pale, the red in her dress so dark against her skin that she looked almost bleached - a far cry from the vibrant, harried woman Tahani and Eleanor had met early in the hallway. It was wrong. It was all so, terribly wrong and Tahani didn’t know how to fix it. 

“Let me go!” she snapped at the men and women around her. “Let me go or-”

“Tani?” said Eleanor from behind her, voice too soft and too faint. Tahani turned around. 

“I got something on my dress,” she said. “I promised I would keep it clean…” A dark stain blossomed from her shoulder, shocking against the light blue of her dress, growing rapidly as she fell hard to the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Eleanor,_

_Isn’t this paper pretty? Your mom gave it to me and said I should write to you, since here in Alaska, we don’t have emails, or even a telephone._

_Dad is glad for that, I think. Ever since he got out of the hospital, the phone’s been ringing off the hook. He’s tired of being The Man Who Saved The First Lady and most of the time now he’s just The Man Who Wants Some Peace And Quiet. He’s been kind of grumpy about it lately. Maybe that’s the reason we’re moving._

_Dad says that he thinks this will be good for me. I think it will be terribly lonely. But you can write me back, he says! We can write all the time. So I look forwards to your letter!_

_Your friend,  
Tahani_

SIX YEARS LATER 

They say that throwing a hatchet is all in the wrist, but that’s not quite true. It’s not in the wrist, or the arm, or the shoulder. Really, it’s in your whole body. But most of all, it’s in your head, Tahani al-Jamil thought, as she dug her second favorite hatchet out of the base of the big tree near their cabin. 

She no longer practiced with her favorite hatchet, ever since last winter when she’d been so bored and so tired of ugly things that she had bedazzled the handle of her favorite hatchet. Ever since then, the grip hadn’t been quite right for throwing. 

Her dad might have been angry if he’d noticed; but, he hadn’t. Strangely enough, considering that he was a man whose very life had depended on noticing things many times, he’d developed a nasty habit of not noticing anything the last few years. Especially things that related to Tahani. 

With a vicious yank, Tahani ripped the axe from the tree. Very few men could have pulled it out from where it was, almost handle deep into strong wood, which gave Tahani a certain amount of satisfaction. 

She took 30 steps backwards away from the tree, drawing in a deep breath of crisp, icy air. The shadows were lengthening around her and she knew that she had work to do before nightfall; wood to haul, a chainsaw to sharpen, shingles to repair and solar panels to replace from the storm that had come through a few days ago. She also had a mountain of schoolwork that she needed to give to her father to take to Juneau next time he flew there. 

Maybe she could get him to bring her thirty or forty library books while he was there, too. They hadn’t gotten much snow in the last few months, but soon the sun would go behind a cloud, and Tahani knew from years of experience that once it disappeared it wouldn’t be back til Easter. And Tahani was determined to be ready for it. She was always ready, for anything. 

She took a few more steps back, raised her arm and pictured the hatchet sinking into the center of the trunk with a satisfying thunk. Closed her eyes, opened them again. Then in one quick, fluid motion, she threw. 

The hatchet was once more sunk so deeply into the tree that its wooden handle, if you squinted, could almost be an odd part of the tree, sticking out like a tail. She pulled it out and considered; perhaps she should try throwing from farther back, or with her left hand. Then she heard it - a mechanical hum in the distance. Tahani turned and watched the small red dot in the sky grow larger and larger. When the dot touched down in the middle of the lake and began floating towards the cabin, Tahani couldn’t help but remember another day, another landing. 

Another world. 

“Dad’s home,” she said ironically, but there was nothing but the wilderness to hear her. 

 

“Tahani!” her dad shouted from the plane as soon as he’d killed the engine. 

He was still a big man, still strong and lean; even leaner, somehow. In DC, Tahani’s father had spent hours boxing and running and lifting weights. He’d taught courses on self-defense and used to spar with the president himself, who had once been an Olympic athlete. But as Tahani watched the man who leaped to the dock from the plane that sat on top of the water, she knew he didn’t move like that man used to move. 

It could have something to do with her father’s bad leg. Many would have credited the shoulder injury or the three resulting surgeries. 

But Tahani knew that that wasn’t what had changed her father. What had changed him was Alaska. In Tahani’s not-uneducated opinion, Alaska could change anyone. 

“Hey kiddo, did it rain while I was gone?” 

“Yes, it rained,” she said. “It always rains.” 

“Good.” He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight against him. “I stink.” 

“You always stink,” she said, shoving him away. He laughed and pulled her tighter. 

“If the barrels are full, then, I’ll heat some water and take a bath. How are you doing?” 

When they reached the porch of the small house, they both paused to take off their boots. This was a luxury that Tahani revered; soon it would be too cold to do so, the Alaskan winter setting in and freezing the wilderness outside to shards of ice. Until then, however, she was determined to keep mud out of the house. 

Well, house was perhaps a strong word. 

She followed her father into a room that held a wood-burning stove and a table with four rickety chairs. There was a shower rod over an open doorway that led to the kitchen, with heavy curtains that could make the room private whenever one of them wanted to bring in the big tub from the back porch and heat some water for a bath. 

In DC, Tahani’s bathroom had been entirely hers, with a pink shower curtain and towels so soft that Tahani would never even consider using them to do something like dry her hands. Here, she had a metal tub, a curtain, and if she was lucky, four barrels full of rain that wasn’t ice. It was as though that bathroom from the other life was just a dream. 

The main room held a recliner and a couch and three electric lights that worked as long as the sun was shining in the summer or the wind was blowing in the winter. Tahani was grateful for the light; it meant reading, and writing. Or it used to mean writing, back when Tahani had someone to write to. 

She tried not to think about that, generally. 

“So how are you, kiddo?” her father repeated, unloading the supplies he’d promised to bring with him when he came back. 

“Fine,” she said. He laughed. “What?” 

“Oh, nothing. It’s just that, you finally ran out of words. I guess it had to happen soon, given the rate you ran through them at when you were a kid.” 

For some reason, that sentiment stung. “I’m still a kid,” Tahani muttered. 

“What’s that?” her father said, beginning to unload library books onto the table. 

“Nothing,” she replied. He looked like a man who knew better than to argue. 

Her father pulled a half dozen newspapers out of his backpack and laid them atop the books. On the front page of one she saw a headline about some trip the president was taking overseas. Briefly, she wondered if her father was jealous of the men and women who would be going with him. But no; her father could’ve had that life, but he’d chosen otherwise. 

Tahani was the only one who’d never been given a choice. 

“Do you have any letters for me to take on the next run?” he asked, as he always did. 

“Did you bring back any letters for me to read?” she rejoined. He shook his head. “Then there’s your answer.”


	4. Chapter 4

_Dear Eleanor,_

_Dad said we’d have a house._

_Dad LIED._

_It’s a cabin, he says, but it’s more like a shack. I have my own room, though. Well, technically, I have a little loft that he built in the main room. It’s just a mattress sitting on a platform and a little lamp. But there’s a curtain I can draw if I want privacy, and I have it to myself. At least I do when I’m not sharing it with the local wildlife. (Some people will tell you that squirrels are cute and cuddly. They are not. You can consider yourself warned!)_

_I’m sorry I can’t reply to anything you’ve said in your letters, but they haven’t gotten here yet. They’re probably in the mail._

_I really hope they’re in the mail._

_Tahani_

Eleanor couldn’t hear the music. It simply pounded, beating in her skull until she wanted to scream. And maybe she would. It’s not like anyone would hear it. She highly doubted anyone would care.  
With so many bodies pressed so close she was almost anonymous here. Almost. But not quite.

She was a little taller than average, her hair a little lighter. Only 17 percent of the population had green eyes. But Eleanor’s most distinguishing feature was her shadow.

As she pushed through the crowd of bodies on the dance floor she could feel the big man following in his wake. And a little part of Eleanor wanted to crawl in some hole and hide. At least until the election was over and America had a new president. Maybe he or she would even have another screwup daughter, if Eleanor was lucky. But Eleanor hadn’t been lucky in a really long time.

The noise level dropped a decibel or two when she pushed out of the living room and down a hall that led to the kitchen, where the game was already underway.

“Well, if it isn’t the first daughter and her shadow!” Eleanor’s least favorite person said two seconds after she walked through the swinging door.

The light was a little bit brighter in here, the music a little bit softer. For once, Eleanor could actually hear herself think.

“You should fold, Dempsey,” she said.

“What?” Dempsey asked.

Eleanor looked down at the table covered with brightly colored chips and overturned cards.

“You should fold,” she said again. “You know, quit while you’re ahead.”

Dempsey looked like he wanted to get out of his chair and fold Eleanor into a new shape, and he might have tried if not for Eleanor’s shadow.

“What do you know about it?”

Eleanor didn’t miss a beat. “I know you need a queen to make your straight, which means you’ve got an eight percent chance under the best of circumstances, which this isn’t, considering Peterson there is holding one already.”

Now Dempsey really did get up. “You cheating or something?”

“No.” Eleanor shook his head. “I’m paying attention.”

Eleanor always paid attention. To everything. Sometimes two inches of bright red fabric was all that stood between life and death, after all. Once you came to grips with that, cards were easy.  
The whole table—the whole game—made sense to Eleanor with one glance. For a second, she wanted to join her friends. And she would have, if she hadn’t noticed long ago that they weren’t really her friends at all.

The music got louder for one brief moment as the door behind her opened and closed. Eleanor didn’t turn around, though. Charlie had her back. So Eleanor wasn’t expecting it when an arm slid around her neck and a soft cheek pressed against hers.

“Eleanor!” the girl practically screamed. She slurred her words slightly and felt unsteady on her feet as she pulled Eleanor even closer. Then her phone was in her free hand and she was screaming, “Let’s take a selfie!”

A bright flash filled the air and Eleanor’s eyes burned while Charlie yelled, “No phones!”

“But my followers!” the girl complained as Charlie ripped the phone from her hands.

“You’ll get this back at the end of the night,” Charlie told her. He slid the phone into his pocket and glanced at Eleanor as he questioned the girl, “How did you get this in here, anyway? We’ve got agents at the gate. They should have taken your phone.”

The girl looked confused. “They did take my phone. That’s my backup phone.”

Charlie wanted to groan, Eleanor could tell. “I’ve got to go talk to someone,” Charlie yelled over the still-pulsing music. He stepped toward the door but stopped himself. “Something wrong?” Eleanor asked as if she didn’t already know exactly what Charlie was thinking. “You can leave me alone for five minutes, you know.”

“That’s what you said in Paris.”

“I apologized for Paris,” Eleanor reminded him. “And Berlin. But I refuse to apologize for London because those scones I brought you were delicious.”

“Rascal.” Charlie sounded like a man who couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry or just shake the girl he was paid to protect.

“What? Are you afraid I’m going to sneak out and go to a wild party? Charlie, I’m at a wild party. Besides, I need to go to the bathroom. Or are you going to follow me in there, too?”

“It was discussed after Buenos Aires.”

At this, Eleanor shook his head. “Yeah. Well. We all have things we regret about Buenos Aires.”

Eleanor eased closer to the bathroom, and Charlie eased toward the door.

“Charlie, go! Yell at the new guys.”

“You’ve got your panic button?” Now Charlie sounded like a little old lady and not a former Navy SEAL.

“Of course,” Eleanor said. It was the one Secret Service rule she never, ever broke. That button had saved her mother’s life, and Charlie must have known it because he turned and pushed his way back through the crowded house.

He was gone before Eleanor did, in fact, go to the bathroom, where she removed two items from his pocket.

One was a small transmitter with state-of-the-art GPS and a button that, when pushed, could bring forth the hounds of war.

Another was a hot-pink cell phone with a not-too-terrible picture of a pretty girl and the president’s daughter. Eleanor didn’t stop to wonder how long it would take Charlie to realize Eleanor had picked his pocket. She just posted the picture to her account. The girl had followers to consider, after all.

Then she placed the panic button on the bathroom vanity, right where Charlie wouldn’t have to look for it. Just because it was a rule she’d never broken before didn’t mean there wasn’t a first time for everything.

As she walked to the back door and across the dark, deep lawn, Eleanor never once looked back.

It was ten minutes before Charlie realized that she was no longer in the bathroom.

 

“Eight hours. You were gone for eight hours! WHAT were you thinking?”

The Oval Office was one of the most intimidating rooms in the world—at least that’s what the White House tour guides liked to say. But even though the room was powerful, Eleanor had figured out long ago that it had nothing on the man.

The president’s suitcoat was draped over the back of his chair and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, his red power tie loosened. It was his working-man-stump-speech look—the one that went over well in midwestern mill towns. But in the Oval, it made him look like a man who had immense power at his disposal but would rather tear a person in two with his bare hands than bother calling in the marines.

“Were you thinking?” the president yelled again, and Eleanor forced a shrug.

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“I’ll tell you when it’s a big deal and when it’s not. That’s my right as long as I’m—”

“President?” Eleanor guessed.

“Your father,” the president finished.

“News flash: You already got reelected,” Eleanor told him. “Unless you want to be Queen of England or something, you’ve run your last campaign.”

“This isn’t about my presidency—”

“I think the Secret Service would disagree,” Eleanor cut in, but her father never slowed down.

“—this is about our family!”

Only then did Eleanor let herself glance at her mother, who muttered, “Joseph.” Her father spun on her.

“She posted a picture online and then took a walk. For eight hours. No detail. No panic button. Do you know what could have happened to her?”

“Yes, Joseph.” Her voice was soft but strong. Her whisper echoed through the room like a roar. “I know.”

They didn’t talk about That Day. Not ever. Not in ages. But it was always there, simmering underneath the surface. In many ways, it was her father’s legacy: the thing his two terms in office would be remembered for the most.

He was the president who had almost had his wife snatched out from under his nose.

His was the White House with blood on the floors.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I forgot,” Eleanor’s father said, but that was a lie. He didn’t forget. None of them did. Maybe that’s why the president spun on Eleanor and snapped, “Secret Service protocols exist for a reason. You of all people should know that.”

“It was a selfie!” Eleanor couldn’t help but shout. “If that were illegal, then every kid in America would be locked up.”

“It wasn’t just a selfie, and you know it! It was a beacon, transmitting your location to everyone in the world with a cell phone—a location from which you decided to wander off, unprotected. And you aren’t just another kid in America. You are the president’s daughter.”

“Yeah.” Eleanor bristled. “That’s what they tell me.”

Something in Eleanor’s tone seemed to break through her father’s armor, and his rage began to fade into something closer to regret.

“I know you didn’t choose this life. I know no teenager in their right mind ever would. But it is our life, and when I think about what could have happened … We all know what could happen!”

“But it didn’t happen!”

As soon as the words left Eleanor’s mouth, she knew she was going to lose. Worse, she knew she should.

She was being stupid. She was being careless. She was being selfish and stubborn and almost too cliché for words. But she hadn’t been able to help herself. Not in London or Berlin or Buenos Aires. Eleanor really was her own worst enemy, which was saying something, she knew.

“I’ll apologize to Charlie. I won’t do it again.”

“Oh, I know you won’t do it again. But it’s too late to apologize to Charlie.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Charlie got hoodwinked by a sixteen-year-old. Again. So Charlie doesn’t work here anymore.”

“What? Did you transfer him to Treasury or—”

“Charlie has a nasty habit of losing the president’s daughter, so now Charlie’s got to find a new job.”

“You can’t do that!” Eleanor snapped. But the president smiled.

“I can do anything. I’m not just the president of the United States. I’m your father.”

“Joseph,” the first lady warned.

“Come on, Dad. You’ve got, what? A year left in office? What are you going to do, lock me up until CNN stops caring about us?”

For a moment, Eleanor’s parents seemed to consider the idea, but then a smile passed between them. Which was worse.

“If the Secret Service can’t keep you offline and out of trouble, then we’re going to send you someplace where online and in trouble isn’t an option.”

Eleanor didn’t even try to bite back her laugh. “Yeah, Mr. President. Good luck finding that.”

Eleanor was already to the door, her hand on the knob, when her mother said, “Oh, we’ve already found it.”


	5. Chapter 5

_Dear Eleanor,_

_We’ve been here six months already. I can’t believe it. Can you believe it? It feels like we just got here. And in other ways, it feels like I’ve never lived anywhere else. Like my old life was just a dream._

_Were you a dream?_

_I told Dad that this has been a most excellent experience, but I’m ready to go back to our real life now._

_He just smiled and said this is our real life. I asked him when we were going back and he didn’t answer. Which is an answer all its own, isn’t it?_

_Sometimes I think he doesn’t want to go back. And sometimes I think he can’t. We can’t._

_I just don’t know why._

_Tahani_

 

“Come here, kiddo. There’s something we need to talk about.”

The last time Tahani’s dad had said those words she’d found herself on three planes (each progressively smaller than the last) within a week. So, needless to say, she wasn’t the good kind of excited as he pulled up a chair at their old, battered table.

Tahani had never really understood why they had four chairs. It’s not like they did a lot of entertaining. Not unless you counted the time Tahani had forgotten to lock up her cereal in an airtight container and a bear had tried to break through the cabin’s front door. Which Tahani totally did not count. That bear hadn’t been invited and would never be welcome again.

So she didn’t really trust the look in her Dad’s eyes when he glanced at the empty chair that wasn’t stacked high with library books.

“Where are you going this time?” she asked because she knew him well. Too well.

It had been just the two of them since Tahani was three and her mom had died. And that was before they’d moved to the middle of nowhere. For six years it had been just the two of them. If Tahani didn’t know her father, she didn’t know anyone. There were no other options.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said quickly. Guiltily. “Or, well, I’m not going right now.”

“Then what is it?” It took a lot to scare Tahani Al-Jamil. She’d seen her father take a bullet. When she got up to go pee in the middle of the night she usually carried a revolver. Fear and Tahani went way, way back, but she’d never seen her father look quite like he looked then.

“Nothing’s wrong, kiddo. It’s just that … I’m expecting … I mean … I heard from DC.”

That, at last, stopped Tahani’s heart from racing. At that point, Tahani’s heart wasn’t beating at all.

Tahani thought her father had burned that bridge, salted the earth, gone as far off the edge of the map as possible, and then dropped straight down and landed here, smack dab in the middle of nowhere.

“You’re not going back,” Tahani blurted because, it turned out, there was something worse than moving to a place where your best friends were either fictional or fur-covered. There was knowing your dad might take another bullet. “You quit,” she reminded him.

“That’s right, kiddo. I did quit. And they wouldn’t have me anyway, even if I wanted to go back. Remember.” He patted the leg that still ached sometimes and pulled aside the collar of his shirt just far enough for her to see his second-biggest scar.

“Yeah.” Tahani laughed. But it wasn’t funny. “Kind of hard to forget.”

“I’m sorry, kiddo. What I’m trying to say is … the president and the first lady are sending us a surprise.”

For a moment, Tahani couldn’t help herself. She thought about the ice-cream sundaes that the White House chef used to make. She remembered one time when the first lady let her try on the shoes she’d worn to the inaugural ball. She could almost smell the new leather of her favorite chair in the White House screening room.

So when her dad got up and walked to the door she wasn’t really following him, not consciously. She just couldn’t stay behind.  
Tahani could never stay behind.

“What’s the surprise?”

As soon as they stepped off the porch, Tahani felt it. Or maybe she saw it. Heard it? She couldn’t be sure. She just knew that something big was coming. Ripples spread across the water of the lake, and the trees started to toss and sway.

Glacier silt lined the banks of the lake, and it swirled like sand, stinging and blinding. A part of Tahani knew what she was going to see long before the helicopter appeared, hovering over the trees and then dropping softly to the ground.

“What kind of surprise, Dad?” Tahani asked again as his arm went around her, pulling her tight. Maybe she knew the answer. And that’s why she pulled back, why she squeezed her eyes shut. It had nothing to do with the wind that swirled around her, full of silt and gravel and leaves.

Tahani knew that as soon as she opened her eyes, she was going to see a ghost.

But it turned out she didn’t have to see him to know him. She just had to hear the words, “Hey, Tani.”

It’s really her.

 

Eleanor shook her head for a moment. She couldn’t be sure if she’d said the words out loud or not. Probably not. She glanced up at Mr. Al-Jamil, studied his face. Definitely not. Tahani and her father weren’t looking at her like  
she was stupid. They were looking at her like she was different.

And she was.

Some guys hit puberty and turn into football players or wrestlers or big, hairy creatures who look like science-lab experiments or something. Eleanor had just … grown. Everywhere. It felt like her fingers were a foot long. Her feet seemed always at risk of bursting out of her shoes. Her pants and her shirts, too. She was like the Incredible Hulk, except not green and not quite so angry.

Oh, she was definitely angry. But she could also feel it fading a little. Like she was still in the helicopter, looking down on the lake and about a million acres of wilderness and the tiny dot that was her destination. Eleanor’s anger looked smaller from there, like it was a long way off. And now there was only her and Mr. Al-Jamil and a girl she used to know.

“It’s you.”

This time she for sure said it aloud because Tahani’s dad glanced at her, then held out his hand for Eleanor.

“Good to see you, Rascal.”

Mr. Al-Jamil shook her hand like she was a woman, but something about it made Eleanor feel more like a kid than ever. She’d been through probably twelve pairs of sneakers since she’d last seen the man, but in Mr. Al-Jamil’s presence Eleanor felt as if she might be ten until the end of time.

“You, too, sir,” Eleanor said. She watched Tahani listen to the words. She didn’t say a thing.

“How are your parents, Eleanor?” It was the first time Mr. Al-Jamil had ever called her by her first name. It made Eleanor pull back for a moment, rethink things. Remember that Tahani’s dad wasn’t the head of the president’s detail anymore. Now she was just Eleanor’s dad’s friend. And this wasn’t supposed to be fun.

“My parents are well, sir. The president’s blood pressure was a little high the last time I saw him, but that’s to be expected.”

“Yes. I imagine it is,” Mr. Al-Jamil said, then smiled.

“Is that why they’re punishing you?” Tahani asked. “I mean they are punishing you, right? Why else would anyone come here?”

Eleanor watched her speak. Her voice was the same, but her mouth was different. Why had Eleanor never noticed her mouth before? Her bottom lip was fuller, but the top lip was shaped like a little bow, and she couldn’t decide which lip she liked more. She knew she was going to have to do a lot more looking in order to choose. And it suddenly felt imperative that Eleanor choose very, very well.

She was aware, faintly, of Mr. Al-Jamil shifting, saying “Tahani” like it was some kind of warning. “Eleanor’s parents just asked if she could come here for a bit,” her dad finished.

Eleanor wondered how much Tahani’s dad knew. It was clear Tahani knew nothing. Not about Eleanor repeatedly slipping her detail or Charlie getting fired. Not about the poker club she’d been busted for running out of the Lincoln Bedroom last February, or how she’d gotten really good at forging her father’s signature and had sold ten thousand dollars’ worth of stuff on eBay before someone at the State Department figured out what she was doing and shut her down.

Eleanor had started six different social media accounts in the names of former presidential pets, and three were still operational. But if the sixteen followers of @SocksTheCat were wondering why Socks suddenly had so many … well … socks (and jackets, and an old copy of The Call of the Wild) no one was saying so.

No. Tahani didn’t know about any of that. Tahani only knew that they used to be friends, and she looked like maybe that was a decision she might have come to regret.  
Eleanor turned back to Mr. Al-Jamil. “I’m glad to see you looking so well, sir.”

Tahani’s dad laughed and slapped her on the back. “Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

Eleanor smiled, but Tahani’s voice was cold. “That’s not funny.”

And Eleanor remembered.

Blood. Cold tile and the way the shots were quieter than they should have been, and yet the sound seemed to reverberate forever.

“Tani, it’s okay,” her dad said, but Eleanor got the feeling that it wasn’t—that it really wasn’t okay at all.

“How have you been, Tani?” Eleanor asked, but Tahani just glared at her.

“Awesome!” she said, but Eleanor was 90 percent certain she was being facetious. It quickly became 100 percent when Mr. Al-Jamil said “Tani” and she spun on him.

“I’d ask if I could go to my room, but I don’t have one.”

Then she turned and headed toward the house.

But it wasn’t a house. Not really. From where they stood, Eleanor could see a wooden porch and a steep roof over rough wooden walls made from logs that looked as big around as boulders.

Mr. Al-Jamil’s hand was firm as it landed on Eleanor’s back. “Come on in. Let’s get you settled.”

Another helicopter was dropping to the ground just then and silt and gravel whirled, spinning in the air. Mr. Al-Jamil had to shout over the noise.

“You go on!” Two agents were hopping out of the helicopter. “I’ll get these guys set up.”

Mr. Al-Jamil shoved Eleanor’s bags into her arms and pushed her toward the cabin. And Tahani.

Eleanor could hear men shouting. A crew was already unloading huge crates, and someone was setting up a tent. Soon there’d be cameras in the trees and a secure satellite signal trained on this location. But only two agents were staying behind. Eleanor’s dad had been adamant about that.

There would be no chef. No housekeeper. No butler or driver or even someone to wash her sheets. Eleanor wasn’t on vacation. She would have a two-agent detail because that was the minimum, but other than that, her parents would have been just as happy to drop her off in the middle of nowhere and forget about her until the country had a new president.

A pair of small boots sat beside the door of the cabin, so Eleanor stopped on the porch and took hers off as well. When she knocked, the door swung open, and she couldn’t help but ease inside.

Eleanor wasn’t really sure what she’d expected. Maybe a moose’s head over a roaring fire, a bear-skin rug and steaming mugs of hot chocolate. But it wasn’t like that.

There was something like a kitchen in what could have been a small hallway, with a stove and a curtain on a rod. Instead of a fireplace, she saw a black stove with a big pile of wood stacked not far away. There were shelves covered with books. A few small, dirty windows and floor lamps provided the only light. There were two doors. Through one, she saw a bed and a dresser. The other went out the back through the kitchen.

“It’s not much, but it’s home.”

Tahani didn’t sound ashamed. She just sounded … different. Angrier and more serious somehow. She was supposed to be rolling her eyes at her, teasing her about how big she’d gotten or how silly she was to have come all the way to Alaska and not have brought her a single piece of official White House chocolate.

Tahani was supposed to be smiling. But the girl in front of him looked like maybe she couldn’t quite remember how.

“Where’s your room?” she asked because she had no idea what else to say.

“Above you.”

That’s when Eleanor saw the little ladder beside the door, the loft that sat above the main room, a bright quilt over a small bed.

“That’s cool,” she said.

“Whatever.”

“No. I mean it,” Eleanor said. She’d been living at the most famous house in the world for seven years, and in its own way this small cabin was nicer and happier than Pennsylvania Avenue would ever be. “This is nice, Tani. It’s … warm.”

“That’s because Tani’s got a good fire going!”

Only then did Eleanor realize they were no longer alone. Her father was pulling a stack of books from one of the chairs at the table. When Eleanor turned, she saw a cabinet with sparkly dresses that were four sizes too small for the girl she’d just met. There were old copies of teen magazines and a bottle of fingernail polish by the window. Right beside a hatchet that appeared to have sequins and rhinestones all around the handle.

“Tahani.” Eleanor practically exhaled the word, finally seeing something of the girl she used to know in the angry young woman with the utterly fascinating mouth.

“What?” she asked.

“I—”

Eleanor knew she was supposed to say something. Pay her a compliment. Maybe grovel. Her father always said that women expected a great deal of groveling, but Eleanor didn’t know what to say. And, luckily, at that moment a totally different noise filled the air.

Ringing.

When you live in the White House, your whole world is one nonstop chorus of ringing phones, but something about the sound didn’t belong in that small cabin.

There were no power lines. No phone lines. No water lines or gas lines. Tahani’s world was pretty much line-free. Confused, Eleanor stole a glance at her best friend, but she wouldn’t look at her.

Which meant she probably wasn’t her best friend anymore.

The phone rang again, and all Eleanor could do was watch as something passed between Tahani and her father, a don’t-pretend-you’re-capable-of-ignoring-that look.

“I’ll call them back,” Mr. Al-Jamil said. “Now, Eleanor. Are you hungry? I make a pretty mean pot of chili and Tahani’s got some—”

“Base to Ridge Center. Ridge Center, do you read? Ridge Center, this is Base.” The voice that filled the air was scratchy, and it took Eleanor a moment to see the old-fashioned radio that sat on a cluttered desk. “Ridge Center, do you read me?”

“Go ahead,” Tahani told her father. “It must be important.”

“Sorry, guys,” Tahani’s dad said as he sat on an old metal office chair and spun, reached for the microphone and answered. “Hello, Base, you’ve got Ridge Center. Go.”

“Hey … Center. We’ve got a storm … in.” The woman’s words were spiked with static, coming in fits and starts.

Tahani’s dad just laughed a little and pressed the button on the microphone. “It’s Alaska, Base. Storms are always moving in.”

It took a moment for the woman to answer. “This one’s not so normal.”

Maybe it was the tone of the woman’s voice or the eerie, crackling static that filled the cabin, but Eleanor thought she could actually feel the air change when Tahani’s father looked back at his daughter.

He pressed the button on the microphone. “How not normal?”

After a beat the woman answered, “We need you to … a run tomorrow morning before … hits.”

Eleanor watched Tahani’s face. It wasn’t disappointment. She didn’t roll her eyes. But it was like a string ran between her and her father, something pulled too tight for too long. She was afraid that it might snap.  
“No can do, Base,” her dad said. “I just got home.”

Home. This place in the middle of nowhere, this building that was something between a cabin and a shack. This was home. And Eleanor wondered if Tahani felt the same.  
“I’m sorry, Mike. I wouldn’t ask if … emergency. We’ve got a group of scientists that were supposed to … resupplied in three days, but if this thing is half as bad as … won’t make it then, and … needs medication. This thing might be bad enough that we can’t make it in after, and—”

“I read you, Base.” Tahani’s dad’s gaze never left his daughter’s. “I’ll leave at first light.”

Eleanor heard a door close, but more than anything she felt Tahani’s absence. In a way, she realized, she’d been feeling it for years.

“I’m sorry,” Eleanor said, and she meant it. She really did. She was sorry that she’d ditched Charlie. Sorry Charlie had been fired. Sorry that she’d come here and upset whatever fragile ecosystem Tahani and her father had made for themselves.

But most of all Eleanor was sorry that Tahani no longer smiled when she looked at her. She was sorry that the girl she used to know was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

_Dear Eleanor,_

_I haven't been eaten by a bear yet. That's the good news. But I think a bear might have eaten your letters._

_That's the bad._

_Tahani_

Tahani didn't turn the light on. Maybe because days were always short in winter, and even though she knew the solar panels would still get some sun and the wind never would stop blowing, she didn't want to drain their batteries just the same. Maybe it was because she knew she should be trying to sleep because at least eight hours was absolutely essential for good skin and clear eyes. All the beauty magazines said so.

Or maybe Tahani just didn't want anyone to see the light that she would shine beneath the curtain of her "room."

That's why she lay, unmoving, for what felt like hours in the little nest her father had built during their first winter in Alaska. It was always warmer up where she slept and safe away from any animals that might come calling in the middle of the night. But Tahani liked it mostly because she could pull the curtain and have some privacy, even if it was the kind of privacy one couldn't stand in fully upright and enjoy.

But that night Tahani stayed perfectly still, staring through the darkness until she couldn't take it anymore. Then she couldn't stop herself from reaching down between the mattress and the wall and wiggling her fingers until she found it.

The picture was folded into quarters, and thick lines creased the image. She knew each and every inch of it by heart - and still she reached for her emergency flashlight, risked a little light in order to look at it again.

Tahani still had that dress. Or parts of it. Their second winter in Alaska, Tahani had read every book the Juneau library had on learning how to sew, and over the years she'd turned all of her old clothes into new clothes. She'd saved the shiny white dress with the silver sequined sash for last. Now it was a jacket that might still fit, but Tahani had never, ever worn it except when she wanted to feel pretty sometimes in the darkest parts of winter.

It was hard to believe that it had once been such a pretty dress. Or that she'd been that happy girl. She wanted to believe that she'd forgotten Eleanor's face, but she hadn't. She knew her as soon as she saw her. Even though she now looked like a version of Eleanor that had been stretched and pulled and maybe dosed with some kind of magic potion to make her approximately three times her original size.

But in the picture--in her mind--they were the same height, and she had deep dimples and a mischievous grin and she kept her arm around her, the two of them ready for whatever adventures lay ahead.

As long as they could face them together.

Tahani's cheeks were wet then, and she reminded herself for the millionth time that she was never going to cry over Eleanor. Never, ever again. Then she took the photo and held it at the creases. It was time, she knew-- time to tear it right down the center, rip it into a million pieces and throw them on the fire.

But she slipped it back between the wall and the mattress instead, back where it wouldn't hurt her anymore.

She closed her eyes and rolled over in her bed. She was going to sleep, she told herself. And when she woke up, maybe it would all just be a dream.

But that's when Tahani heard it.

There's a certain kind of noise that people make when they're trying not to make any noise at all, and right then the cabin was full of it.

Feet scraping and banging against chair legs, cabinet doors opening and closing in the dark. Tahani eased down her ladder and flipped on the floor lamp by the desk, but her father didn't whirl. He wasn't surprised. He'd made a career out of never, ever being surprised.

"How's the weather?" Tahani asked.

Her father shook the match in her hand, forcing it out, and Tahani saw the kindling in the stove catch. Soon the cabin would be filled with the smell of wood smoke and coffee.

"It's holding," her dad said with a glance out the window, as if it might have changed in the twenty seconds since he'd last looked. "Go back to bed, Tani."

It wasn't that early. Days are just short in Alaska at the beginning of winter. And the truth was, Tahani was the kind of tired that sleep couldn't really fix.

"When will you be back?" she asked.

"Tonight. If the weather holds."

She heard what he wasn't saying-- that this was a big storm. It had to be to scare people who had lived in extreme weather most of their lives. But she also knew that nothing would keep her father from her. Absolutely nothing. And sometimes that was the scariest thing of all.

"I'm okay," she said. "I'll be okay. So don't take any chances. Please. If it's bad, don't risk it. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"Sounds like you're the one who's worried."

"You're about to fly a plane the size of a large car over mountains and glaciers and through what might possibly be the storm of the year. In Alaska. So I'm allowed some trepidation."

"Well, I'm leaving my teenage daughter alone with a girl, so I'm allowed some, too."

Tahani couldn't help it-- she glanced at the closed door to her father's room. Eleanor was in there on a small cot the Secret Service guys must have brought with them when they set up their little base camp near the trees.

Eleanor.

"You going to be okay without me?" her father asked. Tahani forced herself to look away from the door.

"It's been six years, Dad. If I weren't okay without you here, I'd be dead by now."

"That's not what I mean, Tani. And I think you know it."

Tahani turned away from the door and the girl who had turned away from her. "Whatever."

"Tani--"

"I'm not going to kill the president's daughter." No matter how much I might want to, she silently added.

"That's not what I'm asking." Her father eased a little closer. Outside, the sun was coming up, and the cabin was the color of glowing coals. "Are you okay?" he tried again.

"I'm fine."

Her father filled a thermos with coffee, took it to his pack, then added his satellite phone and his wallet. "I thought you'd be happier to see her. You two were always so close."

"Yeah." Tahani filled a cup of coffee. "We were."

The cabin was bright enough that her father could see her face, read her eyes.

"Maybe I shouldn't go."

"No. You have to go. You know you do. We're fine."

"There are two agents in the tents outside. They're in charge of security, but Eleanor - Eleanor's supposed to be roughing it."

"Oh, I'm sure she's in the lap of luxury."

"I mean it, Tahani. Make her haul wood. And tote water. And clean fish and fix the roof and whatever else you were going to do. Her parents want her to carry her weight. I didn't mean to put this on you but-"

"I'm okay," she said. "We'll be okay."

"If you're sure," her dad said.

Tahani forced a smile. "Of course."

 

How many times had Tahani watched her father fly away? Too many to count, that was for sure. In the beginning, he took her with her. Her first taste of Alaska came at six thousand feet, soaring over glaciers, skirting above mountains, touching down on lakes so clear and cold that you could practically skip across them on bits of glacier ice, live like the seals that lay sunning themselves on the cold, wet land.

And then Tahani got older and was allowed to stay on her own for an hour. A day. A night. Her father was never, ever gone more than forty-eight hours, though. That was a rule that neither of them ever said aloud. He'd also never left her Not Alone before. And Tahani wasn't at all sure how to take it.

She crept to the closed door of her father's room. There was no light. No movement. It was almost like it was empty, just like always. But it wasn't, and that was a fact that Tahani could never, ever let herself forget.

She started the day's work by drawing the curtain over the kitchen door and heating the water. If the storm was bad, then this might be her last chance for a while, and she felt like she needed her armor for what was coming.

To Tahani, armor meant nail polish. And lip gloss. Really, lip gloss was essential to a girl's self-defense, she was certain. And clean hair. Oh, have mercy, did she ever need clean hair.

She worked as quickly and quietly as she could, and soon she was sinking into a tub full of hot sudsy bubbles, leaning her head back and letting the warm water wash over her.

She was never really warm in Alaska. Sure, sometimes she was hot. And sometimes she was freezing. But a nice, comfortable warm was something she only found in the bath, and so Tahani let herself close her eyes and sink lower and-

"Hey, Tani. I-- Sorry!" the voice came from behind her, and Tahani found herself bolting upright and then sliding down beneath a thick blanket of bubbles.

She hadn't really fallen asleep. She'd just entered into a kind of it's-early-and-I'm-still-sleepy-and-this-water-feels-really-really-good kind of trance.

She'd forgotten she wasn't alone.

"Eleanor!" she yelled, and glanced behind her at where Eleanor stood with her back facing her, both hands over her eyes.

"I'm sorry! I- Why are you taking a bath in your kitchen?!"

"It's also the bathroom," Tahani was still yelling. "Stay turned around!"

"Right!"

"And put the curtain back!"

She watched Eleanor grope blindly behind her until one of her hands found the curtain and pulled it closed again. Only then did she let herself relax. Which was the good news. But that also meant she had time to really think about what had just happened.

Which was the bad.

Hurriedly, Tahani stood and rinsed her hair and her body and wrapped herself in a big towel. She was halfway into her base layer when Eleanor's voice rang out from the other side of the curtain--too close--like she hadn't moved.

"Tahani, why were you taking a bath in the kitchen?"

"Because this is where we heat the water and take the baths. Bath. Room."

"Okay," Eleanor said in the manner of someone who didn't think it was okay at all. "So if this is the bathroom, then where do I--"

Tahani jerked her head through the curtain, then pointed. "It's about forty feet out that door."

Eleanor looked to the door outside, then back at Tahani. The look that crossed her face in that moment was almost worth having her there, listening to her stupid voice and staring at her stupid face and putting up with the stupid little jerk that her heart made when she smiled.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered.

Tahani smirked. "Welcome to Alaska."


	7. Chapter 7

_Dear Eleanor,_

_I got all new clothes, which is NOT as exciting as it sounds. Turns out, they don't even make extreme-weather boots with sequins on them. If you ask me, they're missing out on a market. I mean, if you have to be stuck in the mud, shouldn't you at least have something pretty to look at?_

_Tahani_

Going outside at this time of year meant four layers, in Tahani's considerable experience.

Wet layer (waterproof coat, boots).

Dry layer (jeans, flannel shirt).

Base layer (thermal top, leggings).

Under layer (tank top, control-top pantyhose--because in addition to making sure she had a smooth line under her jeans, they were crazy good at preventing friction and holding in body heat, and, in a pinch, Tahani knew she could totally use them to catch fish).

She was just starting to button her shirt when there was a knock on the door. An incredibly loud knock. If it weren't for the fact that their cabin had once held up while there was eight feet of snow on the roof, Tahani might have worried that Eleanor was getting ready to huff and puff and blow her house down.

But she just knocked again.

"Come in," Tahani said.

"Can I come in?" Eleanor yelled even though she was 99 percent sure she'd probably heard her.

"I said come in!" she shouted. Then, slowly, the doorknob turned.

She recognized the tuft of Eleanor's light hair as she leaned inside.

"Well, I didn't want to take any chances."

It wasn't until she actually crossed the threshold that Tahani realized her hand was back over her eyes.

"I'm wearing clothes, Eleanor," Tahani said, because she absolutely was not going to smile. No. No way. She wasn't going to think that she looked adorable and that she was funny. Funny Eleanor was shot in a hallway six years ago. Adorable Eleanor was dead and Tahani would do well to never let herself forget it.

So she just stood there watching as Too-Tall, Too-Big, Too-Grown-Up Eleanor took her hand off of her eyes and studied her closely, looking from the top of her still-a-little-wet hair to the tips of her really thick socks.

That was when she cocked an eyebrow and asked, "Are you sure you're dressed?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

One of Tahani's fears--one she had never shared with her father or wrote in her letters or ever, ever voiced aloud--was that she might forget people. How to be with them. How to talk to them. How to read them and make them laugh--that she might forget all the thousands of things that people do and don't say during every day of the world. And that's the fear that hit her right then-- that Eleanor might be talking in a language that she'd forgotten how to speak.

Or maybe it was a language that she had never learned at all.

"I mean -" She looked at the green plaid of her flannel shirt. "Don't they make that in pink?"

She finished up the last of the buttons. "No. They don't."

Then Tahani reached for her favorite waterproof jacket, stepped outside, and started pulling on her boots.

"Tani."

"My name is Tahani!" She didn't even realize she was shouting until she stepped back, like she'd slapped her. But Tahani consoled herself with the realization that she absolutely would have known it if she'd slapped her. "That's my name. I'd suggest you use it."

"Your dad calls you Tani," Eleanor told her like it was the most foolproof argument in the world.

She stepped closer. She'd grown a lot in six years, but Eleanor had grown more. A lot more. She had to crane her neck to look up at her, but still, somehow, she could tell that she made her feel small. "I like my dad."

"So you don't like me?"

"You always were a smart kid, Eleanor."

With that, she jumped off the porch and stormed down the path toward the water. She saw two tents set up. A pair of Secret Service agents she didn't recognize practically smirked as she passed, like they'd been wanting to yell at Rascal for ages, like they were more than happy to sit aside and let a teenage girl take a stab at her. They looked like they'd even give her the knife.

Which wasn't necessary. Tahani always carried her own.

"I've got chores to do," she told them.

One of them nodded. "We'll be here if you need us."

Tahani turned and started through the woods. A few minutes later she heard heavy feet landing on the cold ground, someone yelling, "Tahani, wait up!"

But Tahani didn't wait up. She was through with waiting-- for letters, for phone calls, for people and friends. Tahani was absolutely through with looking back.

"Tahani!" Eleanor wasn't breathing hard when she caught up with her, but she acted like she was. She'd thrown on her boots and a jacket, but she wasn't ready for Alaska. No one was ready for Alaska on their second day. Ever.

"Where's the fire?" Eleanor huffed.

"It's back there," Tahani snapped. "And it will go out if we don't get wood."

"There's wood," Eleanor said.

"There's never enough wood." Tahani shook her head like maybe she was the one who didn't understand what words meant.

"Tani--Tahani. I'm sorry. Wait."

But Tahani didn't dare wait. "There's a storm coming, Eleanor."

"That's the rumor, yes."

"Dad won't be back until after dark--if then. And there's work to do. Lots of work."

"Okay, let's work."

She was supposed to make her do it, Tahani knew. And a part of her wanted to make her haul wood and use an ax and climb and claw and dig until her hands bled and her back ached and she would give anything to go back to her big, cushy bed in the most famous house in the world.

But another part of her wanted to turn her back and freeze her out. Freeze her dead.

She slapped her hands together, not to warm them, but to show she was ready for everything. Tahani wanted to laugh. She wasn't ready for anything.

"Just try to keep up."

She turned down a path and started walking. She could feel her on her heels as she shouted back, "Don't wander off by yourself. Especially at night. If you need to go out, tell Dad or take a pistol. Or - on second thought, don't go out at night."

"No nighttime wanderings. Check."

"And don't eat anything you see out here--berries and stuff. Some are delicious. Some will kill you dead."

"Poisonous berries. Check."

Tahani could feel Eleanor keeping pace just behind her. So she stopped. Spun.

"And whatever you do, don't drink the water. A guide once told Dad that some of the springs still have arsenic in them from the gold rush. I have no idea whether she was joking or not, but let's not risk it, okay?"

"Seriously?" Eleanor asked. She raised her eyebrows. "Alaska--where even the water will kill you. I'm surprised they don't have that on a T-shirt."

"Eleanor--" Tahani warned. Eleanor raised her hands in surrender.

"Poisonous water. Check."

She turned and started walking again, trusting her to follow like a shadow.

"And if you see a bear--"

"It's more afraid of me than I am of her," Eleanor filled in, but Tahani stopped short.

"No." She shook her head and looked at her like she might be a moron, which she probably was. "It's not afraid of you. It's a bear! So back away slowly and hope it doesn't want to kill you. Because it can without breaking a sweat."

Eleanor studied her face, then nodded slowly. "Killer bears. Check."

"And moose," Tahani added. "Moose are the meanest things in Alaska, which is saying something. We don't have a lot of moose around here, but that's just good to know. For the future."

Tahani knew the woods around her. She was aware of every step and rock as they climbed. She knew exactly how the sun would glisten off the lake and how small the cabin would seem when they crested the ridge.

Tahani knew this place, but the girl, she couldn't help thinking, was a stranger.

"Tahani -"

"What?" she didn't want to snap, but she really couldn't help herself.

When she looked up at Eleanor she had to squint against the sun. She was so tall now. So strong. In her memories, she was still a kid with freckles and hair that curled when it got too long. She was still a girl who could see anything and remember everything. But she'd forgotten all about her, and that made all the difference.

"What about you?" she asked. "Are you going to kill me?"

Tahani had to think about the answer.

"Why would I do that when I just have to get out of the way and let Alaska do it for me?"

She expected her to turn back after that, thought she might go lumbering down the trail to her Secret Service detail and the satellite phone they no doubt had. She thought she'd go find whatever gadget regular kids were obsessed with that month--or maybe, if she was desperate, a book or a graphic novel or something.

She truly, honestly did not expect her to follow.

She certainly never expected her to say, "You're different."

Tahani stopped and took her hatchet from its sheath, then pulled back her arm and hurled it at a tree thirty feet away. When its blade sunk into the bark with a satisfying thunk she looked at Eleanor. "What makes you say that?"

She backed away. "No reason."

There was a dead tree that was small and made good kindling. Tahani hurried to fill her arms with the wood she'd cut a few days before. She couldn't bring herself to face her when she said, "You're different, too."

"I know. I'm way better looking than I used to be."

She could hear the smile in her voice, so cocky but self-deprecating at the same time. It was a special brand of endearing, one you must learn after a lifetime spent in the spotlight, pleasing millions of people. The only person Tahani ever saw was her dad, and she couldn't even please herself most of the time.

So she scanned Eleanor, from her too-big feet to her still-messy hair. "There was only room for improvement."

Tahani's arms were full and she turned, starting back toward the path and the cabin and whatever she could find to make the day feel a little bit normal.

"My best friend left." Eleanor's voice sliced toward her on the wind, and something inside of Tahani snapped like the ice on the lake when summer is coming. It felt like she might fall through.

"Don't!" she shouted.

"Don't what?" Eleanor asked, all innocent.

"Don't act like I left you."

"You did leave!" Eleanor shouted, and Tahani couldn't help herself. She stalked toward her, closer to the edge of the cliff.

"I came here, Eleanor. This is my life. Look around. These are my friends. This is my school. This is my life!" The words echoed across the lake as if they bore repeating, and something in Eleanor must have known it, sensed it.

Because when she said "Tani -" her voice broke, but Tahani was the one who felt like crumbling.

And maybe she would have, except a person can't be weak in Alaska. A girl can't cry her way through the long, dark winter because her tears will just freeze on her face and ruin her skin and Tahani had learned that lesson the hard way ages ago.

"Did you even get them?" Tahani asked. "Did you even read them, Eleanor?"

"Read what?" she asked, and Tahani didn't know whether to scream or push her down the cliff. It would serve her right, she thought. The Secret Service agents probably wouldn't even blame her.

"I wrote you every week. Sometimes more than once a week. I wrote you every week for two years. I wrote you hundreds of letters, and every time my dad would fly home I'd run out to the lake to ask her if you'd written back yet. I'd lie to myself, make believe that I'd probably get all of your letters at once. I was gonna stay up all night reading them. I was going to read them all in order. I was going to make a big list of all the questions you'd ask me and then another list of questions I was going to ask you. I had highlighters. I had stickers. I wrote you every week and then I realized -"

"What?" Eleanor's voice was small, and Alaska was big. But Tahani heard it anyway.

"It didn't matter that my dad saved your mom that day. It didn't matter that the bullet only grazed you and - It didn't matter. My friend died that day. She died just the same."

"I never got any letters, Tahani."

"Nice try, Eleanor. You might try that on someone a lot more gullible than I am now."

"No. Seriously. I mean it. I never got any letters!"

"Don't lie to me, Eleanor. Abandon me. Ignore me--fine. But don't ever lie to me."

"I never got any letters! Maybe my parents--"

"Your mother gave me the stationery! She's the one who told me to write!"

"Maybe the White House thought they were spam or something."

"They weren't emails, Eleanor. They were letters."

"Yeah, but do you have any idea how much mail the White House gets? People write the first family all the time."

"You think I don't know that? You think the former head of your father's security detail didn't double-check the address?"

"I don't know, Tani. Don't hate me. Please. Don't hate me."

Something about the pleading, haunted look in her eyes made Tahani stumble back.

"I don't hate you, Eleanor. I don't even know you."

And that was so much worse.

"Tani--"

She was reaching for her. She was going to take her hand, maybe smooth her hair. The wind was blowing hard and she hadn't bothered to pull it back. It was still a little damp from her bath, and it was going to be tangled now. It was mistake number eighty-seven for the day, Tahani was starting to realize.

She wasn't going to let number eighty-eight be believing her. Not ever again.

"Tahani, wait!"

Years of rage and pain came boiling up and spilling out. She was a volcano of hurt feelings, and Tahani hated herself for it. But not as much as she hated her.

"You don't get it, Eleanor. The best thing about my new life was that I never had to see you again."

The first thing you get good at in Alaska is first aid. There's no nurse's office, no urgent care--no ER just down the road and open twenty-four seven. Tahani could wrap an ankle and treat a burn, and she had never met a splinter she couldn't dig out.

But she'd never seen an injury like what those words did to Eleanor. And the truth was she had no desire to kiss it and make it better.

"Tahani, look--"

"No, Eleanor. I don't have to look. I don't have to see. I don't have to -"

But Tahani's voice trailed off and her anger faded away as she realized that Eleanor was actually pointing behind her, that she was backing away. Terror filled her face, and it took Tahani a moment to register the look--to remember that it was one she'd seen her wear once before.

Then she heard sounds that had no place in her forest-- the snap of a twig beneath a boot; the scrape of a heel over a rock. The skidding of gravel as someone inched too close to the edge.

And Tahani spun just in time to see the butt of a gun slicing toward her. She actually felt the rush of air just before the sharp pain echoed through her face, reverberating down to her spine.

She heard yelling, screaming. And then the sky was too big and blue above her, the ground was rushing up too fast below.

"Tahani, no!" someone yelled, but it must have been a dream because it sounded just like Eleanor.

But Eleanor was gone. Eleanor was never coming back to her. Ever.

She huddled on the cold ground for a moment, then tried to turn over, maybe get a little more sleep, when she heard the voice in her dream again.

"Tahani, wake up. Tahani, please--"

She tried to rise. She wanted to get up--really, she did. She didn't want to be lazy and spoiled and too weak to survive on her own. But just when she got her hands under her, just when she was starting to push herself from the cold, hard ground a sharp pain slammed into her stomach--it was what Tahani always thought a steel-toed boot might feel like as it connected with a rib.

Yes. That was definitely what it felt like, she thought as she closed her eyes and turned over.

And over.

And over.

And when she finally stopped rolling Tahani didn't fight it anymore. She just let the lights go out.


	8. Chapter 8

_Dear Eleanor,_

_You know how my dad said she was going to leave the Secret Service because it was dangerous and she didn't want to risk getting killed and leaving me alone in the world and all that?_

_Well, she brought me to a place where she leaves me alone all the time and where pretty much even the AIR can kill you._

_Seriously._

_Things that can kill you in Alaska--_

_-animals_

_-water_

_-snow_

_-ice_

_-falling trees_

_-more animals_

_-bacteria_

_-the common cold_

_-hunger_

_-cliffs_

_-rocks_

_-poorly treated burns, cuts, and scrapes_

_-boredom_

_I may definitely die of boredom._

_Tahani_

For a long moment, Eleanor lay on the cold ground, looking at where Tahani was supposed to be. She was just there, she thought, even though the words didn't make any sense. Even though she should have been running, fighting, crawling, or shouting out for help instead of screaming the one word that mattered anymore-- "Tahani!"

She was aware faintly of the cold ground beneath her knees, the feeling of rocks biting into her hands as she crawled toward the edge of the cliff.

Tahani was there. She knew it. In the movies, this was when you looked over the side to find a tiny ledge just a few feet down. Maybe she was clinging to a tree--a rock. Something. Anything.

Tahani was down there, and Eleanor had to get to her. She had to be hanging on.

But there was no ledge. No tree. Eleanor peered down at the small, twisted body tangled in the brush below. It was probably a fifty-foot fall to the place where she rested. Maybe farther.

It was so much farther.

But Eleanor wasn't going to think about that. She could reach her. She could dry all that blood that was over her face. There was so much blood. She could wipe it away and wake her up and they'd laugh about it.

She would tell her she was sorry.

She would. It wasn't too late to say it to her. It wasn't too late. Period.

Eleanor was so focused on Tahani and her blood and her guilt that she almost forgot about the woman.

But when a huge boot landed in the dirt and the rocks in front of her, almost smashing one of Eleanor's fingers, Eleanor jerked back.

Slowly, she looked from Tahani's mangled body, up and up until she was squinting against the sun. Only when a head moved to block the light could Eleanor really see her.

"Shut up," the woman said.

But she wasn't a woman, really. She probably wasn't even that much older than Eleanor. In DC, she would have looked like a student at Georgetown, maybe an intern on the Hill. No way the woman was older than twenty-five, and if anything she looked younger. She had dark hair a little too long and a dimple in her cheeks.

It was only the eyes. She had old eyes, like they had seen far too much danger and misery to be contained in fewer than twenty-five years.

"Do not move," the woman said, and Eleanor tried to place her accent. Russian, she knew. But which part of Russia? It wasn't the accent of the gutter. No, whoever she was, she'd gone to decent schools. She was important to someone--somewhere. She wasn't some dumb thug with a gun and an ax to grind. No. She sounded like -

She sounded like the men in the corridor--like death itself--and it made Eleanor shutter and remind herself that this wasn't just another bad dream.

The woman's hands were all over Eleanor then, patting her down and feeling in her pockets. Eleanor was too stunned to move, but when the woman pulled out the small panic button that Eleanor had sworn to never abandon again, Eleanor shouted, "No!"

But the woman was already pulling back her arm, and Eleanor watched the button fly over the edge of the cliff.

"Now get up. Slowly." The woman climbed off of Eleanor and backed away, and a part of Eleanor knew that she was supposed to obey, follow directions. Be good and not make trouble because a grown-up had just given her an order.

But Eleanor had already forgotten her promise to be good. If anything, she was in the mood to be very, very bad, so as soon as she reached her knees, she put one foot underneath her and shot toward the woman's legs, grabbing them in a death grip, twisting and plowing her shoulder into the woman's thighs and knocking her to the ground.

Eleanor wasn't cold anymore. She wasn't hungry or tired or jetlagged. She wasn't even angry. Anger has a beginning and an end. This was simply rage, like a fire had been burning inside of her since she saw her mother's dress sticking out of that rolling cart. This woman was nothing but gasoline.

Eleanor didn't stop until she felt the woman hit the ground with a satisfying thunk. The two of them rolled, kicking and tangled together. Eleanor womanaged to strike the woman in the stomach, but it was like she didn't even feel it. The woman just reversed their positions and brought the gun up, slamming it into Eleanor's gut in one fierce blow that made all the breath leave Eleanor's lungs. Eleanor turned, wanting to move, to strike. But they'd rolled close to the edge, and when the woman pressed, Eleanor's head turned and there she was.

Tahani.

Not moving.

Face covered with blood.

Tahani was dead, and the realization made Eleanor's fire go out.

In a flash, the woman was up and moving. She held Eleanor's arm behind her back as she dragged her to her knees, forcing a pair of handcuffs onto one wrist. Too tight.

But Eleanor couldn't find the words to complain.

All she could say was "You killed her."

The woman didn't answer. She just dragged Eleanor to her feet, pulling her right hand in front of her and cuffing it to her left.

"I should really put your hands behind your back, but if you lose your balance and follow your friend down a ravine it will delay us. We cannot have delays."

"You killed her!" Eleanor yelled again, lunging forward and smashing her combined wrists against the woman's chest, but the blows glanced off like they were nothing. When the gunwoman looked at Eleanor she seemed mostly annoyed.

"Yes, I did." The woman's voice held no emotion. It was like Eleanor had asked her for the time, like maybe she was about to comment on the weather. This was just another day in this woman's eyes.

Wake up.

Take a walk.

Kill a girl in cold blood.

"You killed her," Eleanor said again, and suddenly a calm, cold peace came over her. She turned from Tahani's mangled body, and when Eleanor spoke again, they were the most honest words she'd ever said-- "So I'm going to kill you."

The woman almost smiled.

"You are welcome to try."

Before Eleanor could lunge for her again, the woman pulled a small silver key from her pocket and dangled it in front of Eleanor's eyes.

"This is your hope," she said, then brought the key to her lips, kissing it softly. "Good-bye," she said before tossing the key over the edge and into the deep ravine, just like Tahani.

"Tahani."

"Now walk," the woman said. She poked Eleanor in the ribs with her gun and pushed her in the opposite direction from the cabin.

"You're not going to get it," Eleanor said. "Whatever you want, if you think kidnapping me is going to help you get it, you're wrong."

"Right now I want you to walk, and I'm going to get that," the Russian said with a shove in Eleanor's back, forcing her legs under her as gravity took over, pushing her farther and farther away from Tahani's body.

Tahani's head hurt. And her face felt funny. Like maybe she'd forgotten to take off one of her deep-conditioning masks. Or like maybe the batteries were low and she'd been burning a candle and wax had melted in her hair while she slept. It didn't burn, though. And her skin didn't hurt. But the sticky feeling made her feel like she'd never be clean again, like there wasn't enough water in Alaska to wash it all away.

It was stiff and itchy and -

She brought her hand to her face, then looked down at her fingers.

Red.

Tahani's hand started to shake. She was too cold, and when she looked at the blood that covered her fingers, she wanted to scream.

Eleanor.

Tahani remembered fighting with Eleanor.

She turned and looked up to where she had been--to where she was supposed to be. But the sun was too bright and she had to squint. Her head pounded and all she wanted to do was to lie back down, pillow her aching head on her arm, and go to sleep for an hour. A day. A lifetime.

Nothing would ever feel as good as sleep.

But there was something nagging at her, some thought that wouldn't let her rest.

As soon as she closed her eyes, she saw the gun coming too fast toward her; she felt the blow to her head, the ache of a kick to the gut. And she knew.

"Eleanor!" she tried, but she couldn't get enough air. All the sound had been kicked right out of her. "Eleanor!" she tried again, expecting her to peek over the side and tell her it was all some misunderstanding. One of her detail had gotten confused. Someone was going for help. She was going to climb down and get her, grab her in her suddenly-too-strong arms and carry her up the cliff.

She yelled one more time. "Eleanor!"

And when she didn't answer, she got a whole different kind of worried.

Her head still pounded and her side still ached, but those pains were fading as a new kind of terror took their place.

After all, it was one thing to fall and hit your head in the middle of nowhere. It was another to be knocked unconscious while standing beside the only child of the most powerful woman in the world.

"Eleanor!" she shouted again.

Now wasn't the time to panic.

Now was the time to be smart. Be clever. If Eleanor was up there, she would have answered by now. Unless she couldn't answer. Unless she was hurt or dead.

But when she saw the red blood on her fingers she couldn't help but think about another piece of red--and instinctively she knew she was alive. After all, plenty of people might want to kill the president. But the president's family? No.

Eleanor wasn't a teenager. Eleanor was leverage. And leverage is only worth something when it's alive.

The thought should have been a comfort, but it wasn't. Maybe it was the pounding inside of Tahani's head. More likely, it was the flash she saw on the far side of the river, inching up another ridge, away from the lake and the cabin.

She was there-- Eleanor was there and she was alive. But she couldn't tell if there was one gunwoman with her or two. Or twenty? Tahani cursed herself, utterly unsure. She felt sloppy and stupid and weak, so utterly weak that she could have laid there and wallowed in self-pity for the rest of her life, but she didn't have time for that.

She tried to climb to her feet, but her head swam and she might have been sick if there had been anything in her stomach besides a little coffee and last night's supper.

There was nothing inside of her but fear and regret.

On the far side of the river, Eleanor stumbled, and the big woman hit her in the back, forcing her to climb higher. Faster.

Tahani put her hands to the ground, ready to push herself to her feet, but something cold and sharp bit into her palm. She jerked back, and there, imprinted on the soft flesh of her hand, was a key--a small metal key like to a set of handcuffs. She wanted to scream again because this key on the ground, more than the blood and the pain and the sight of Eleanor walking away, made it all seem real.

Tahani knew what she had to do. The Secret Service had sent two agents with Eleanor. Soon they'd be wondering why Rascal hadn't returned. They'd need to check in, touch base. They would be coming. Soon.

And they no doubt had satellite phones and maybe coms units. There was also her dad's old radio and the sat phone she left for emergencies. One way or another, help was waiting at the cabin. She just had to get there and then -

She felt a raindrop.

This happened in Alaska. Clouds could come from nowhere, filling the sky and turning a beautiful day into a deluge in a matter of minutes.

She felt another raindrop. And another. And another.

The soft earth where she'd landed was already starting to form puddles. Whatever trail Eleanor might be leaving would soon be washed away.

And right then, Tahani knew she had two options.

She could go for help, summon the cavalry and call the guards.

Or there was option two.

How many times had she questioned her father's sanity, wondering what kind of person ran toward gunshots?

But the rain was falling harder. So Tahani pulled up the hood of her jacket and watched Eleanor disappear into the trees and the brush on the opposite rise, and she thought about her father, running toward the gunmen, jumping in front of the bullets.

And Tahani did the only thing she could do--

She followed.


	9. Chapter 9

_Dear Eleanor,_

_When at last we meet again, you should probably know that I'm not the same girl I was when I got here; that's for sure. I've learned a lot. For example--_

_Things I've learned in Alaska--_

_1\. It's cold._

_2\. It's wet._

_3\. Everything is slow._

_4\. Especially the mail._

_Tahani_

 

The summer between eighth grade and Eleanor's freshman year of high school, she grew four inches and gained thirty-five pounds. Probably another twenty pounds turned from baby fat to muscle, and her feet grew so much her mother started buying her shoes two sizes too big. The president used to joke that it was going to impact the national debt just to feed her.

It wasn't fun. And it wasn't funny. Not for Eleanor, at least. It was like going to bed one night and waking up every morning in an entirely different body--one that didn't move the same, feel the same, work in the same way as the one she had always known. Her fingers were clumsy and her feet were clunky and it felt like she was constantly at risk of moving too fast in the wrong direction and toppling over. It seemed to take months for her center of gravity to feel like her own again.

This is what that felt like.

Walking through the woods, still numb and angry, her hands bound in front of her as she plodded up a hill and over the rough ground, Eleanor's feet were heavier than they should have been. She stumbled and shuffled and dragged her new all-terrain boots over terrain that she never before could have dreamed of.

Eleanor was in good shape. She played sports in school and liked to swim and play pickup games with the off-duty Secret Service agents who always seemed to be hanging around the court at the White House.

But she was tired. She was winded. She wanted to sit down and stare forever.

She wanted Tahani back.

She'd just gotten Tahani back.

Eleanor didn't care when she ran into a tree limb and broke it, when she kicked a rock and sent it down the steep face of the hill, lost in the mud and muck.

It was starting to drizzle, but she barely felt it. Eleanor barely felt anything. At least she didn't until the woman with the gun started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Eleanor spat out the words, rainwater clinging to her mouth and spewing forth like she might be rabid.

But the kidnapper smiled. "You. Thinking you are going to leave a trail for someone to follow. You have seen too many movies, my friend."

"I'm not your friend."

"No. You are my hostage. Walk."

Eleanor turned and did as she was told, but she couldn't shut up. That was asking too much. Her hands were starting to go numb, and she had to use her arms and lean at the waist to try to get enough momentum to drag her body upward.

"Do you really think no one is going to miss me? I thought you knew who I was. People tend to notice if the first kid goes AWOL."

"There is no one to miss you."

Now Eleanor wanted to laugh. "I'm the president's only child. When Tahani and I don't come back, they'll have an army in these woods. They'll have the Army."

She spun on the woman, feeling triumphant, but the feeling turned to ice as a cold, cruel grin spread across the woman's face.

"Are you thinking of the men in your camp or of your little friend?" the woman asked, then shook her head. "It does not matter. Like I said, there is no one to miss you."

Suddenly, the ground moved, the earth shifted. Eleanor blamed it on the wet, steep hillside, but it was more than that.

Charlie had gotten fired because of her, but in that moment, Eleanor knew that the two agents who'd been forced to follow her to Alaska had gotten much, much worse.

She could barely get the question out-- "What did you do?"

"What I've only begun to do. Now walk." The Russian accent seemed thicker now, with this new, awful knowledge. "We cannot fall behind schedule."

She reached for Eleanor then, to grab her by the handcuffs and jerk her to her feet, toss her around as if she weighed nothing--were nothing.

But even as the clouds grew thicker, Eleanor's mind grew clearer. She could see it now-- what had happened--what was happening. The Russian was right about one thing-- Eleanor had watched a lot of movies, and she knew that there would be no negotiating for her freedom, no tearful, tense exchange. She'd seen this woman's face; she'd heard her voice. Eleanor was a dead woman. Just like the two agents who had brought her here.

Just like Tahani.

Tahani.

Eleanor heard a fierce roar that rumbled like thunder in the dense woods, but it wasn't a bear--it was her own mangled cry. She didn't think or feel or worry anymore. She just lunged at the woman who was standing beneath her on the hillside.

Tahani was dead. And something inside of Eleanor was alive and fighting, and she didn't want it to stop until these woods were covered with blood.

She felt the woman falling and grabbed hold tighter, and the two of them rolled over and over across the rocks. Tree limbs slashed against them. Eleanor tasted blood. Her screams filled the air, a terrible piercing cry that she didn't even try to stop.

Her hands were still cuffed, and she slammed them into the woman's gut, pounding like a hammer with both fists. The woman was dazed, but she wasn't stopped, and when Eleanor pulled back again, the Russian moved like a blur, reversing their positions and leaping to crouch over Eleanor, pressing her chest against the rocky ground.

Eleanor never even saw the knife.

Not until she felt it, cutting into the soft flesh between her pinkie finger and its neighbor. At first, her hands were too cold, too numb, and Eleanor was too high on adrenaline and anger to feel any pain. But then she saw the bright red drop of blood that bubbled up from her too-white skin.

She felt the kidnapper's warm breath on her cold cheek, heard the accented warning-- "This is not the part of you I need," the woman whispered near Eleanor's ear. "Now you must ask yourself-- Do you want to lose more than just your girlfriend and your pride today?"

The woman seemed to think she'd asked an excellent question, made an undeniable point. She didn't know that Eleanor had already lost everything that meant anything to her. A pinkie finger was the least of her problems.

No. The only thing Eleanor cared about was vengeance. And she wasn't going to get that--not right then; not right there. She wasn't going to get Tahani back with her bare fists. She had to -

I am never going to get Tahani back, Eleanor realized.

It was suddenly harder than it should have been to keep breathing.

The woman dragged her to her feet, pushed her in the back.

"Now walk."

 

Tahani knew her way across the river. Even cold and hungry and still a little too unsteady on her feet, she'd crossed the old fallen tree enough times to know that it could hold her.

The woman hadn't known about it, though. Or maybe she hadn't wanted to risk climbing down the steep cliff face to reach it. In any case, by Tahani's estimation she'd gained at least an hour on them. But she'd probably been unconscious at least that long, so she didn't know how much good it did her. Besides, her head hurt too badly to think too much. So she just kept walking.

When she reached the place where riverbank gave way to trees, Tahani saw the broken branches. Even with the rain, someone had dug so deeply into the soft earth while searching for footing that it was almost impossible to miss the ruts. Now.

Tahani looked up at the sky, at the clouds that were growing thicker, darker. Maybe it was the drizzle that clung to her hair or the shock from her long, hard fall, but it was definitely getting colder. And it was going to get a whole lot worse before it got better. In a lot of ways.

Someone might miss Eleanor's tracks if they didn't know where to look for them--if the weather kept getting worse. So Tahani walked to the river and gathered the biggest rocks she could, then placed them like an arrow, pointing the way. She piled a few smaller stones on top, just high enough to be noticed in a few inches of snow and ice, but not so high that they might topple.

Then Tahani lowered her hood. She brought her hand to the side of her face and pressed her palm against the largest of the rocks until her bloody handprint shone like an eerie beacon, announcing to the world-- Trouble came this way.

But trouble was Tahani's family's business, so she did the only thing that made sense-- She followed it.

The footprints were easy to track for a while, but then the ground got rockier and the rain got harder. Luckily there were a lot of trampled bushes and broken branches. It looked like a bulldozer had passed that way, and a part of her wondered if Eleanor was doing it on purpose. She didn't know her well enough to say anymore, and that hurt almost as much as her head.

She could feel the swelling beneath her hair, but that was good, wasn't it? Better for it to swell out than in? Maybe her brain would be okay even if her hair would look terrible. Tahani consoled herself with the fact that there wouldn't be anyone around to see it. That and the whole life-and-death thing.

That's what made her bend at the waist and leverage herself higher. And higher. The rain was still falling, but she was making good time.

Her shoulder hurt, though, probably from the fall. And sometimes she'd find herself stopping, wincing, because it felt like a sword was going between her ribs, but she was pretty sure they weren't broken--just bruised.

It could be worse, she told herself.

She could have left home without a raincoat like a moron.

Was Eleanor wearing a raincoat? Tahani couldn't remember. She just knew she was a moron, and the thought should have worried her, but she just smiled a little. Eleanor was gone without a trace and she was calling her a moron in her mind.

Things were almost back to normal.

But then Tahani saw something on the hill--an overturned rock, like someone had struggled to make a step.

Not quite a moron, she told herself, and went to the rock, stacked a half dozen others around and on top of it with a small limb sticking straight up for good measure, and then she started up the hill again, certain that she was on the right path.

She wanted to run. She wanted to find her and make sure she was okay and just have the worrying part behind her.

But she also had to be careful, be quiet. If the woman thought she was dead, then that could be her best weapon. She'd left her second-favorite hatchet stuck blade-deep in a tree at the top of the cliff, after all. So she stayed quiet, even though that came with its own set of problems.

As Tahani pushed through a piece of heavy brush, she heard a sound that sometimes haunted her nightmares.

Part grunt. Part growl.

Tahani froze on the path as the bear pivoted and saw her. It must have smelled her or heard her messing with the rocks and cursing Eleanor under her breath. Because, thankfully, it wasn't scared. It had known she was there, even if Tahani couldn't say the same.

It was covered in thick fur, fat and ready for winter as it rubbed up against a tree like it had an itch it couldn't quite scratch. But it didn't charge at her. If anything, it seemed annoyed that she'd intruded on its solitude. So Tahani did the only thing she could do--she put her hand on the hilt of her knife, then eased back, slowly slipping away.

When her heart returned to its chest, she veered off the beaten path but kept climbing.

She didn't stop to think about the truth of her situation-- 

There were two predators in these woods, and Tahani wasn't sure which one scared her most.


	10. Chapter 10

_Dear Eleanor,_

_Alaska’s really big._

_And really pretty._

_It’s also really lonely._

_Sometimes I ask Dad why we’re here, and she says it’s for our health. Or because I’m almost old enough that she was going to have to “beat the girls off with sticks” if we’d stayed in DC. I don’t think that’s it, though. But if it is, she’s found the place where the stick-to-girl ratio is probably the highest on earth._

_Tahani_

Eleanor didn’t know what time it was. Usually she was good about stuff like that: finding north, knowing how much daylight must be left. Maybe it was from spending so much of her life surrounded by the Secret Service. Eleanor had received more than a few lessons from well-meaning agents on knowing when someone looks out of place in a crowd or when a vehicle just doesn’t quite fit in.

Someone had even told her once that if her father hadn’t been president, she might have been a good candidate for the Blackthorne Institute (whatever that was—it didn’t even have a website), so it felt weird not knowing where she was or where she was going.

When Eleanor remembered how far north they were and how close they were to the shortest day of the year, she had to wonder how much daylight even remained. She knew there were parts of Alaska that didn’t get any sun at all in the middle of winter and some that got a few hours. Some got more. But Eleanor didn’t know that much about this part of the state. Alaska was more than twice the size of Texas, after all. And then Eleanor had to hand it to the woman at her back: There was no better place to get lost.

Maybe that was why it took her a moment to realize that someone was talking.

It took a moment more to realize that no one was talking to her.

Eleanor turned slowly. The storm had broken for a moment, and a rare bit of sunlight broke through the heavy canopy of the trees.

Some rainwater puddled on the ground, and Eleanor realized that it had started to freeze. Now that they weren’t moving she could feel it: The air wasn’t just chilly anymore; it was downright cold. She stomped her feet and wanted to put her hands in her pockets, but they were still cuffed in front of her and growing numb. Eleanor had no idea if it was from the tight cuffs or the cold air. It didn’t matter. It was the same person’s fault either way.

“Nyet,” the woman said, and something about it made Eleanor want to laugh.

Then Eleanor saw the telephone.

And she actually wanted to laugh harder.

“There’s no signal, dude!” she yelled. The words seemed to echo in the vast wilderness.

“Shut up!” the woman spat in English, then turned her back to Eleanor.

She put the satellite phone to her ear and started talking fast and in Russian, and something in the sound of those guttural vowels and consonants made Eleanor shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

She remembered the feel of her shoulder hitting the wall as the men rushed down the center of the corridor. The flutter of a red dress. The piercing pain of the bullet slicing across her arm. The blood.

And the sounds of Tahani’s screams.

Tahani.

Tahani was gone. She’d been gone for what felt like ages, it was true. But now she was the kind of gone she couldn’t pretend away. She’d just gotten her back, and this woman had taken her from her.

“I just got her back!”

Eleanor didn’t even realize she was yelling until the woman spun and stared at her. The phone was to her ear, and now that she was facing Eleanor, Eleanor could hear every word.

Eleanor’s Russian wasn’t perfect, but she recognized “Yes, I have the boy” when she heard it.

Eleanor wanted to smile at the words—not at what they were but that she’d understood them.

The morning after That Night, Eleanor’s dad had pushed Eleanor’s wheelchair down the hall to see Tahani’s dad. Afterward, on the ride back, Eleanor had turned to her father and said, “I’m going to learn Russian.”

Her dad was still running a hand over the resignation letter that Mr. Al-Jamil had given her, handwritten on hospital stationery. She must have understood what was happening—how much everything was going to change, even if Eleanor didn’t yet realize that the president losing the head of her Secret Service detail meant the first daughter was also going to lose her best friend.

“Did you hear me?” Eleanor had said. “I’m going to learn Russian.”

“Okay,” her father had told her. “Go ahead.”

So she had. It was perhaps the one good decision Eleanor had ever made in her life. At least it was the only one that seemed worthwhile in that moment.

“Yes. I am certain we will not be followed,” the kidnapper said. She looked directly into Eleanor’s eyes, and Eleanor tried to keep the same look of enraged indifference that she’d had before. She couldn’t let on that she understood. It might be the only weapon she had, and she wasn’t going to lose it too soon.

“Is the plane ready?” the kidnapper asked. “We will be there. You just make sure we have a doctor.”

Only the last part surprised Eleanor, and she made a conscious effort to school her features, hide her reaction. Once she thought about it, it made a kind of sense. Eleanor wasn’t really hurt yet, after all. But if she kept annoying this guy, she would be. And whoever this woman was working for—whatever their motivation might be—no one drags the president’s daughter through the wilderness in a storm if they don’t need her alive.

They need me alive, Eleanor thought, but it didn’t bring her any comfort. They thought she might be a pawn, a useful tool. They thought she had value. Eleanor would have laughed if it hadn’t been so funny.

Instead, she just said, “She hates me.”

The woman took off her pack, slipped the satellite phone into a side pocket, and quickly drew the zipper shut—but not before Eleanor noted which pocket the phone was in.

It was like she hadn’t spoken at all—like maybe she was the one speaking in another language, so she said again, louder, “She hates me!”

Finally the woman looked up, and Eleanor couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow, careful not to tip her hand.

“That was a ransom call, wasn’t it?” Eleanor lied, and Tahani’s killer seemed pleased to realize that the first daughter was as stupid as everyone said. It had always been in Eleanor’s best interest to keep it that way. Now more than ever.

“If that was a ransom call, I hope you asked for a miracle, because the president of the United States hates me.”

Maybe it sounded like fear, or anger, or moody teenage angst, but Eleanor wasn’t really ready for the sight of the Russian dropping to a log and asking, “So are you saying I should just kill you now?”

“No.” Eleanor shook her head. “I’m saying you should let me go. You see, she doesn’t actually care what happens to me. But she would care a great deal if she were to be embarrassed. If someone took something that belongs to her, she’d need to make an example out of that somebody. So you’d be better off just letting me go.”

The kidnapper studied Eleanor, as if maybe the intelligence she’d been given was off—like maybe the first daughter wasn’t just sloppy and stupid, like maybe she might also be a little bit insane.

That was okay, Eleanor thought. There were times when insanity could be very beneficial.

“If you’re right and there’s no one looking for me, then that means no one knows I’m missing. Yet. If you let me go, it might stay that way for a while. You could be long gone, back to wherever you came from, before anyone even starts to care.”

The woman leaned closer, her accent heavier. “I will care.”

Eleanor shook her head, like this woman with the knife and the gun—this woman who had hit Tahani in the head and kicked her in the gut, then pushed her off the edge of a cliff like she was a pebble and she wanted to see how far she would fly … Eleanor looked at her like she was the weak one, the one destined for disappointment.

When the words came, they were actually filled with pity. “You’re not going to get what you want.”

But the Russian stood slowly and leaned closer. “I already have what I want.”

For a second, Eleanor actually believed her. It took a moment for her to remember.

“You don’t seem to understand how this hostage business works. See … you take me. Then you trade me for something infinitely more valuable.”

“Get up,” the woman said, as if Eleanor hadn’t spoken at all. “We have lost too much light already.”

That was when Eleanor realized that the sun wasn’t where it should be. The days were so short; Eleanor had no idea what time it was. She only knew that when she started to stand, her head pounded. The earth tilted. And the meal she’d shared with Tahani and her father last night seemed forever ago.

“Move!” the woman shouted.

Eleanor didn’t want to do anything, but she knew she couldn’t just sit there—she couldn’t just die there. Because then she wouldn’t be able to kill this woman later.

So she swallowed her pride and asked, “Do you have anything to eat?”

“We eat when we rest. We rest when we lose the light.”

“That’s a great plan,” Eleanor told her. “But I didn’t have breakfast and we’re not going to make any time until I get a little gas in the tank. I’m no good to you this way.”

The thing that Eleanor hated the most was how much that was true. Maybe that’s why the woman believed her, because a moment later she was swinging off her pack and digging through a compartment, then tossing Eleanor something that looked like an energy bar. The writing was in Russian, some brand name Eleanor didn’t know. But she ripped open the package and dug in, eating just the same.

“You eat while we walk,” the woman said, pushing Eleanor up the hill.

“What? No beverage? I was hoping for a nice latte.”

The Russian threw her a canteen so quickly that Eleanor was actually surprised she caught it.

“Now walk,” the woman said.

 

Tahani was surprised when she finally heard the talking.

It had been so long since she’d been used to any kind of voices. That was the weirdest thing about her new life: It wasn’t just the lack of people—it was the lack of sound. There was no radio in her world. No television. No YouTube or whatever Internet thing kids were into. A dozen different fads could have come and gone and Tahani wouldn’t have even known they existed.

Sure, her dad brought her newspapers and magazines. Sometimes she watched movies that they had on DVD. She had her mom’s old CD collection, and sometimes when Tahani was all alone she’d blast the soundtracks from nineties movies just as loud as she could and dance around the cabin like no one was watching. Because no one was.

But most days, Tahani’s world was silent except for the sound of birds and running water, chain saws and the crack a tree makes just before it falls.

Voices didn’t belong in that forest, but when Tahani heard them, they sounded like music.

Because the voices meant Eleanor was still alive.

Of course, if she kept talking to the woman that way she wouldn’t be for long. Tahani took some degree of comfort from the knowledge that she probably wasn’t the only person in those woods who really, really wanted to kill her.

When Eleanor shouted, “I just got her back!” something inside of Tahani froze. She wondered for a moment if maybe she’d spent too long away from civilization. Maybe some words changed meaning while she was away because Eleanor sounded like someone who had just lost her very best friend.

Tahani might have felt sorry for her if she hadn’t lost her own best friend years ago.

She made herself stay in the shelter of the trees, listening. Watching.

Eleanor is alive, Tahani thought again, and for the first time in hours she really let herself breathe.

She seemed more mad than afraid. She’d never seen her look like that before. But maybe she looked like that all the time now. Maybe this was how she did teenage angst. Maybe all girls did. It’s not like she knew anyone to compare her to.

But no. It was more than that. Eleanor was going to kill the woman who’d taken her.

Kill the woman who’d hurt her.

And right then Tahani’s biggest worry was making sure she didn’t get herself killed first.

 

Eleanor ran her sleeve over her mouth. Or sleeves, rather. Her hands were still cuffed, and she kept the energy bar in one, the canteen in the other. She had a feeling she should be savoring this, committing the feel of food and water to memory. She might not taste either one again for a very long time.

“So what’s your name?” Eleanor wanted to sound casual, maybe crazy. A sane person would be terrified by now, she knew, ranting and rambling and promising to give the woman with the gun anything she wanted.

But Eleanor had learned a long time ago that there was nothing you could give a woman with a gun to make her happy. Men with guns were only satisfied when they took. And Eleanor was going to hang on to the last of her self-respect for as long as she possibly could.

So she took another bite and asked, “Is it Jimmy?” Eleanor plastered on a smile and looked back over her shoulder at the woman who might have been her shadow if the sun hadn’t gone back behind the clouds.

“Bob?” Eleanor guessed again. “Matthew, Mark, Luke? John? Larry? Steve?” She watched the woman closely, and when the Russian’s eye twitched Eleanor was so proud of herself for seeing it that she might have laughed. “It’s Stefani, isn’t it?”

Stefani didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Eleanor already knew she was right.

She took a big bite of her bar and turned to keep on walking. “I met some of your countrymen once. Well, I didn’t so much meet them as I watched them try to kidnap my mother.”

“Keep walking.” The words were meant to be a jab in the back, but Eleanor didn’t much care. Somewhere in that big wilderness there was a plane waiting on them. And a doctor just in case. Whatever her final destination, it probably wouldn’t be as cozy as the middle of those trees and rocks, lost among the rain and the temperatures that were both falling too fast for comfort. Somehow, Eleanor knew that very shortly this place and time might feel like a vacation.

“These bars are good. You want a bite?”

“Shut up!” Now Stefani was the one who looked like she was stuck somewhere she didn’t want to be, doing something she didn’t want to do.

Eleanor shook her head. “Manners, Stefani.”

But it was a mistake, because in an instant the knife was out. “Do you think you are cute? Funny? I need you, but I do not need your tongue. In fact, I see a great deal of benefit in relieving you of it right here. Right now.”

A kind of wet-weather creek had sprung up during the storm as rainwater collected on the hillside, racing down toward the river below. When Stefani stepped forward, her foot landed in the water, but it was like she didn’t even feel the chill. Her rage was so hot that Eleanor half expected to see steam.

Eleanor held her hands up, stepped away. “Hey, I’m just making an honest offer.”

Stefani glared. “I’m making an honest threat.”

“I can see that,” Eleanor said somberly. “You’re obviously a woman of your word.”

“Walk,” Stefani ordered, and Eleanor did as she was told.

It was only after a few steps that she exhaled, suddenly grateful that there wasn’t a knife in her back.

“So just out of curiosity, what do you think I’m worth?” she asked when she just couldn’t help herself. “I mean, it isn’t often a person’s put on the open market. What is the going rate for presidents’ sons these days? Is it more or less than what you guys were going to get for my mother? Accounting for inflation, of course.”

Eleanor didn’t know what to expect: The knife? The gun? Maybe a nice hard shove into freezing water? She couldn’t have been more surprised when the woman said, “I did not take your mother.”

“I know you didn’t,” Eleanor told her. “You were what? My age then?”

She wasn’t much more than a kid now, Eleanor tried to remind herself. But kids are sent into war zones every day. Kids can be psychopaths. Kids can kill.

Stefani straightened. “If I had tried to take your mother, she would have been taken.”

It wasn’t a boast. It wasn’t a threat. It was a simple fact of life, and Eleanor couldn’t keep from saying, “I believe you.”

“Good. Now walk.”

The woman stepped in front of Eleanor, as if to lead the way.

But with every step the echoing pulse that had been beating inside Eleanor’s head for hours grew louder and louder.

Tahani is dead.

Tahani is dead.

Tahani is—

When Eleanor stumbled over one of the big rocks near the stream, her hands plunged into the freezing water, breaking her fall.

Tahani is dead, she thought one more time.

Before Eleanor even realized what she was doing, her cuffed hands were digging into the ground. She was kicking at the rock that was big, but not too big. It was jagged, and even with her cold hands Eleanor could feel the sharp, perfect edges.

With the sound of the rain hitting the leaves and the gurgling stream it was almost too easy to sneak up on the woman. Eleanor knew she had one shot. If Stefani didn’t go down immediately, there’d be a fight, and then the knife and the gun would come into play. Which was fine. Eleanor didn’t care about getting stabbed, getting shot. Eleanor only cared about the weight of the stone and the timing of her step.

She raised her arms high overhead, said a prayer—

And saw it.

She had to blink, certain that it was a mirage—a sign. But it wasn’t the kind of sign she was expecting, so she stepped a little closer, certain that there couldn’t really be a piece of gold dangling from a tree limb, there in the middle of a storm in the middle of nowhere.

Had Stefani seen it? Maybe she thought it strange but insignificant.

After all, she hadn’t chosen that charm bracelet six years ago, placed it on her best friend’s wrist.

She didn’t know to stand in the rain and whisper, “Tahani.”

Eleanor told herself that she must have left it there, lost it ages ago.

But no. The bracelet was too clean and the forest was too large and the girl was too tough to die that easily. Eleanor should have known.

“What are you doing back there?” Stefani’s voice came cutting through the mist, so Eleanor dropped the rock and grabbed the bracelet.

She held the canteen to the leaves that were dripping rainwater like a fountain.

“Refilling the canteen!” she shouted.

“Less water. More walking,” the big Russian yelled.

Stefani didn’t see the way Eleanor scanned the woods around them, looking for a girl who was far too careful to be seen.

She had no idea she was outnumbered.


	11. Chapter 11

_Dear Eleanor,_

_I’m very sorry to hear that you are in a coma._

_Or maybe you have amnesia._

_Or you lost the use of your writing hand and are learning to write with your other hand, which we both know would be saying something since even with your good hand your penmanship is atrocious._

_Or, wait, maybe the White House is out of paper._

_Oh my gosh! Is the White House out of paper?! You’d think that would be in the newspapers that my dad brings, but I could see where it might be a national security risk. No wonder the press is keeping it hush-hush._

_Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me._

_Who am I going to tell?_

_Tahani_

 

Eleanor’s coat was red. Which was a good thing. For now. There’s a reason the redcoats were pretty much doomed during the American Revolution. She stood out like a beacon among the huge trees and big rocks and leaf-covered ground that was getting slicker and slicker with every passing moment.

So Tahani didn’t have to get too close to keep them in her sights. Plus, Eleanor must have made it her mission to kick every rock and break every branch she came across. Tahani was glad of it. As soon as the agents realized she was missing they should be able to track her down.

If the agents realized soon.

If the light held.

If the tracks didn’t wash away.

If the whole forest didn’t fall asleep beneath a blanket of snow and ice.

Someone has to come help, she wanted to scream.

Someone other than Tahani.

She heard the woman yell something at Eleanor—“Less water. More walking.”

And the air around Tahani got even colder. She knew the accent even if she didn’t know the voice. It was one she still heard sometimes in her nightmares. On those nights, Tahani slept with her back to the wall and her hatchet by her bed. If her ghosts followed Tahani to Alaska, that was fine, she told herself. She was going to be ready.

But now she was hunching down behind a fallen log and watching as Eleanor and the kidnapper kept going.

But Eleanor had stopped. And turned. And Tahani knew she’d found the bracelet.

Which meant Phase One was working. If Eleanor knew she was alive and she was here, then maybe she would stop acting like an idiot who didn’t care if she got herself killed.

It had taken all of Tahani’s strength not to scream when Eleanor had picked up the rock and crept toward the gunman’s back. Eleanor was ready to kill, and Tahani couldn’t blame her. In Alaska, people hunted to survive all the time. But Alaska was also the kind of place where being stupid would kill you, and Tahani knew they might have only one chance. They had to make the most of it.

When Eleanor’s red coat moved farther out of sight, Tahani left her hiding place and went to the deep tracks that Eleanor had left in the muddy ground. Then she picked up the end of the log she’d been hiding behind. It had been down for years, she could tell, rotting and decaying in the near constant moisture, and it was almost light as Tahani picked it up and swung it around. She dragged her knife through the bark, drawing an arrow and pointing the way.

Her dad would know that the log had been disturbed. Even if snow gathered on the top, any idiot would be able to see the arrow on the side, high enough that the snow and ice shouldn’t cover it.

Someone had to see it.

Tahani told herself that her father would be landing soon. Eleanor’s detail was probably out right then, searching and calling for reinforcements.

Soon. Someone would catch up with her soon.

Unless her dad’s job had complications …

Unless her plane broke down or the storm came in faster than anyone was expecting …

Unless no one realized they should be looking in this direction …

Unless somehow, for some reason, she couldn’t keep Eleanor in her sights …

Help has to come, Tahani told herself for what had to be the thousandth time.

But there are things you tell yourself. And there are things you know. And Tahani knew that the only person she could depend on was herself.

But that’s okay, she thought. I’m usually enough.

Tahani took one last look at the marker she was leaving behind, then pulled her hood tighter around her face and started up the hill.

She had to keep up. Or, better, get ahead. The best hunting always happened when the prey came to you. Tahani could lie in wait. She could be prepared. She could have a plan and then hope and pray that Eleanor’s stupid ego didn’t get in the way of what she already knew would be a perfectly logical, smart plan.

But first Tahani had to figure out where.

Not where Eleanor and the kidnapper were. But where Eleanor and the kidnapper were going to be.

That was Phase Two. And without Phase Two there could never, ever be a Phase Three. Which was important because Phases Four through Twenty were pretty much “hope” and “pray” and “try to get really, really lucky.”

“Where are you … ?”

Tahani trailed off when she heard the sound of the water. The hill they were on was steep and rough, and one whole side was more like a cliff than a mountain. As Tahani crept toward it, she knew even before she pushed aside the thick green branches of the evergreens what she was going to see.

This part of Alaska was full of rivers and streams—massive ravines cut by glaciers centuries ago and dug deeper by the water that ran through them almost all year long.

The waterfall was proof of that.

The kidnapper could hide out in this forest for days if she wanted to. The Secret Service would have satellites trained on the cabin, but the mountains were covered with trees. As long as they kept walking—kept covered—then they were invisible from the sky. Which was smart. But the kidnapper had to know that someone would find them eventually. Eleanor was the president’s daughter, after all. People would be looking. Lots of people. And soon.

So they had to be planning to get Eleanor out of there. Out of Alaska. Judging by the kidnapper’s thick accent, probably even out of the country. After all, Russia was pretty close. Closer than the rest of the US.

But there were no roads in this part of Alaska. Which meant they had to take Eleanor out by boat or by plane, and they were moving away from the coast, which meant plane.

Which meant …

Tahani looked back at the waterfall, the deep, rough ravine that ran between the mountains, and just like that she knew where they were going—and what she had to do.

But how—how was another question entirely.

She was so busy thinking, running through options and possibilities, pros and cons, that she didn’t pay attention to where she was stepping, not until it was totally too late.

Tahani heard the snap almost at the same moment that she felt the pain.

And then she found herself leaping, falling, and skidding across the uneven ground and rolling through the mud and the muck. Water was seeping through her jeans, and Tahani knew she needed to get her feet under her but her left leg felt like it was on fire.

It wasn’t, though. It was just cut and bleeding. Her jeans were ripped and Tahani was almost afraid to pull back the denim and examine the deep stab wound in the side of her calf. But it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Tahani knew this like she knew her own name.

In a weird way, she’d been lucky, Tahani realized as she forced herself upright and hobbled to the old, rusty trap that had been set at some point in the past fifty years and then abandoned. The mechanism must have rusted through the decades. That’s why Tahani had a flesh wound and not a leg that would never really work right again.

For a second, she just stood there, breathing too hard, feeling lucky to be alive.

Then her breath grew deeper and her heart started beating hard for an entirely different reason.

She might be bloody and hungry and covered with mud. She might not have friends, teachers, classes, cell coverage, adequate food (for the moment), or any prayer of finding help anytime soon.

But—Tahani smiled—she did have a plan.


	12. Chapter 12

_Dear Eleanor,_

_It’s been two years. Seven hundred and thirty days since I sent my first letter. I’m not going to lie to myself anymore. You probably think you’re too important to bother writing me back. I guess you lied, too, when you said we’d be friends forever._

_I’ve learned a lot since I moved to Alaska, but the most important thing is this: Any friend who doesn’t write back isn’t your friend at all._

_So good-bye from Alaska, where I am the most important person for twenty miles in any direction._

_(I’m the only person for twenty miles in any direction.)_

_Tahani_

 

Eleanor had thought she couldn’t get any wetter or any colder, but she’d been wrong. So very, very wrong. Like the kind of wrong she was when she bet Tahani that she could eat all the ice cream in the White House deep freeze and then found out they were preparing for a state dinner and had a hundred gallons.

She made it through half of one huge tub before she took pity on her and made her stop.

She never wanted to feel that way again, but Eleanor was so cold, so sick. Her feet hurt and her head hurt and that energy bar had turned to acid in her stomach. She might have thought Stefani had poisoned her except she knew for certain that Stefani’s bosses were going to need her alive.

When the woman pulled to a sudden stop, Eleanor almost knocked into her.

When Stefani said “We rest here,” Eleanor almost wanted to cry with relief. It was only the weight of Tahani’s bracelet in her pocket that kept her going.

She was walking as slowly as she could, but they’d been going for hours. More than once, she’d started to just sit down, stop walking. But Tahani was out there somewhere. Watching. Eleanor wasn’t about to let her see her cry.

As soon as the kidnapper slid off her pack and sank onto a huge boulder, Eleanor dropped to a fallen tree.

On any other day, Eleanor might have walked from the clearing and looked out over the huge hills and narrow valleys, the massive wilderness that spread out before her like something from a movie. She was on an epic quest, she told herself. Any moment now, reinforcements were going to show up and she was going to save the maiden in distress.

But Eleanor had to laugh when she realized that she was the maiden in this scenario. And she didn’t care one bit.

When the phone started ringing, it was a sound from another century—another world. There are no phones in Mordor, Eleanor wanted to snap before she realized: It’s the phone.

“Da,” the kidnapper said, answering it. She didn’t bother to turn away from Eleanor, lower her voice.

“Get here!” the woman shouted. Even if she hadn’t understood every word, Eleanor would have known that Stefani was angry. Something wasn’t going according to plan.

“No!” Stefani snapped. “A boat will take too long. We cannot reach the coast now. There is no time. We must have the plane and the doctor.”

A beat passed while Stefani listened and Eleanor worried.

Whatever the person on the other end of the line was saying, it made Stefani stare at Eleanor, not just with hatred, but with fury. As if Eleanor had personally killed her dog, burned her house, and ruined her future. Eleanor was the thing that went bump in the night as far as Stefani was concerned, and Eleanor made a point of remembering that—of reminding herself that maybe not everyone wanted her taken alive.

“No. Everything is perfect on this end,” Stefani said into the phone in Russian. Eleanor tried hard not to smile at the sarcasm she wasn’t supposed to understand.

But she must have failed because Stefani snapped, “What?”

Eleanor shook her head. “It’s rude to have conversations in front of people without including them. I’m kind of an expert, you see, because when I was seven my parents got me an etiquette tutor. And, you know, if there’s one thing seven-year-old girls love, it’s etiquette.”

Eleanor smiled her too-bright smile, but Stefani only scowled.

“You should rest your mouth while you’re resting your feet.”

When the woman hung up the phone and put it back in her pack, she pulled the zipper halfway.

But only half.

Eleanor could have sworn she’d done it on purpose, like eating in front of a starving woman.

Then Stefani pulled a map from her pack and spread it on the nearest boulder. The map was laminated and unfolded into probably twenty squares.

“Can I have the canteen?” Eleanor asked as she stood and walked toward Stefani and her map.

“Here.” Stefani shoved the canteen at her and Eleanor took it. She drained it in one long gulp, then handed it back, lingering a little too long over the map as she did so.

The map’s creases gave it something of a grid-like pattern, which was great as far as Eleanor was concerned. She liked things tidy and straight and neat.

She liked things she could memorize.

She wasn’t there more than ten seconds. Fifteen maybe. And Stefani never even got suspicious.

Maybe I’ll join the CIA after this, Eleanor thought. Or maybe I’ll lock myself in my room and never leave again.

She was turning, she was thinking, when a gust of wind blew through the trees. Rain hit her hard, and the temperature seemed to drop instantly to below freezing. It was like winter decided to wake up and blow out its birthday candles. The rain suddenly burst from the clouds, thicker and colder, and Eleanor squinted for a moment, as if maybe she could shake her head and open her eyes again and find it had all been a very bad dream.

But it wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare. When the wind blew again, it caught the map and whipped it off the rock and across the clearing.

They were in the middle of millions of acres of wilderness—no roads, no mile markers, and absolutely no cell signal. Google Maps would never get them to the airplane Stefani was so desperate to meet.

She needed that map.

So Stefani ran, chasing it like it was a butterfly flitting and floating on the freezing wind.

Eleanor didn’t think about it. It wasn’t a strategy or a plan. She only knew that Stefani was busy and her pack was sitting, abandoned, by the boulder.

The pack that had the satellite phone in it.

Eleanor didn’t think at all, she just moved. Instinct taking over, the fight for survival warring with the fight for being smart.

But maybe this was smart. Maybe this was the right move at the right time. She didn’t know. Didn’t really care.

She just knew that she had to do something, and she was reaching into the half-zipped pocket of the pack—pulling the satellite phone free—before she could even blink. She almost had it in her own pocket when she felt something ram into her side like she’d just been hit by a bus.

She fell hard, but the ground was soft enough that the only thing that really hurt was her pride.

That was before Stefani managed to roll them again. Eleanor elbowed her in the ribs, but a moment later she was pinned against the ground, Stefani’s heavy weight on top of her. Eleanor lashed out. She remembered everything every Secret Service agent had ever taught her during the long, boring nights in hotel suites and on campaign buses.

She managed to reverse their positions. She got in a good shot to Stefani’s eye.

When the phone went skidding from Eleanor’s hands, she lunged for it again—and that was her mistake.

Facedown in the mud, the cold seeped up from the ground and into Eleanor’s bones. Stefani was on top of her and Eleanor couldn’t breathe. Stefani was too heavy. And she had both hands on the back of Eleanor’s head, pushing her face into the mud.

“This is what you are worth to me!”

Was Stefani yelling in Russian or in English? Eleanor didn’t know. Didn’t care. It was the last thing she was likely to ever hear in any case.

“This is what you are. I should kill you here. I should—”

“Why are you both so stupid?”

The voice was light and airy, like sunshine. And that’s how Eleanor knew that she was dead—that even in death, Tahani Al-Jamil was going to mock her, roll her eyes at her, taunt her until the end of time. It was the most comforting thought she’d had in ages.

But then Eleanor could breathe again—Stefani’s weight was off her back, and Eleanor was able to roll over and look up into the freezing rain that struck her face like pinpricks, jolting her awake.

“You’re alive,” Stefani said, and Eleanor pushed away, gasping for air and grasping for balance as she pushed to her feet and turned to see the most beautiful sight she’d ever laid eyes on.

She must have washed the blood from her face, but a big bruise was growing at her temple. She was covered in mud and standing oddly, like she wanted to keep most of her weight on her right leg.

But Tahani was here. Tahani was alive.

“What are you doing?” Eleanor shouted.

“I couldn’t let her kill you,” she said, then smirked and looked at Stefani. “You see, I’ve been wanting to kill her for years. Couldn’t let you steal my thunder.”

“You lived,” Stefani said, looking her up and down. Then Stefani actually smiled. “You must be very tough.” Tahani looked like she wanted to smirk again, but Stefani went on. “And also very stupid.”

Tahani shrugged at that. She actually looked like she might start chanting, Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words from stupid Russian kidnappers can never hurt me.

“I’m sure I am,” she said. “But protecting her family happens to be my family business.”

“Good.” Stefani smiled. She reached down and pulled the satellite phone from the mud. She gathered up the map from where she’d dropped it. “This is very good.”

Eleanor looked between the two of them as if maybe they had slipped into a language that she didn’t speak.

“It’s not good, Stefani,” Eleanor told her. “If you haven’t noticed, you’re outnumbered.”

Then Stefani turned on her, so fast it was like she wasn’t frozen—wasn’t tired, wasn’t weary—at all. In the next moment, the knife was in her hand and at Eleanor’s throat. When she spoke again, her mouth was an inch from Eleanor’s ear.

“Oh, it is very good. Because now I have someone I can kill.”

She pushed Eleanor toward Tahani and pulled the gun from the waistband of her jeans, pointed it in their direction while she went to retrieve her pack, sliding the phone inside.

Then she eased toward Tahani.

“Hands up.”

Tahani complied, but not without saying, “Okay. Okay. But please … just don’t judge me based on my cuticles, okay? When your primary heating source is a wood-burning stove, dry skin is your perpetual enemy.”

For a moment, Stefani looked at her like maybe she wasn’t entirely sane, like maybe kidnapping the president’s daughter and dragging her across the wilderness in the freezing rain was okay but maybe she had no idea what to do with any teenage girl who might willingly come along for the ride.

But she was so happy with her new, highly disposable hostage that she was willing to compromise whatever questionable code of honor she happened to have, Eleanor realized as Stefani dug a length of slender rope from her pack and wrapped it around Tahani’s wrists, tighter and tighter. And then the truth sank in: Tahani wasn’t just Eleanor’s ally. She was also Stefani’s hostage.

Once her wrists were bound, Stefani ran a hand down her side, and Eleanor wanted to kill the woman, but for an entirely new reason.

“Don’t touch her!” Eleanor shouted, but it was like she’d never said a word.

The only difference was that now Stefani was smiling as she felt along Tahani’s leg. Her backside.

“Leave her alone!” Eleanor shouted, but Stefani pulled back and held a small pocketknife between two of her fingers after she pulled it from the back pocket of Tahani’s jeans.

“This isn’t much of a knife.” She slid it into her own pocket as she laughed. “You won’t survive for long out here with this, little girl,” she said—and for the first time Tahani actually looked like this wasn’t the best plan she’d ever had.

Had she actually expected her not to search her? Had she thought she was going to sneak up on Stefani and stab her with a knife that had a blade three inches long? Was that what Tahani was playing at?

Well, the game was up, Eleanor realized, and Stefani had moved on to Tahani’s jacket.

When she pulled out a small tube of Vaseline, she cocked an eyebrow. “In Alaska, bears will totally kill you, but chapped lips will make you wish you were dead, so …”

Stefani put the tube back in her pocket and didn’t say a thing. She just ran her hands expertly down her arms and up her torso. When she reached the chain around her neck, Tahani looked affronted.

“Just because you’re in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean a girl doesn’t feel better when she’s properly accessorized.”

Which was more than Stefani could take. She looked more pained than when Eleanor had hit her as she pushed her away. “Enough!” Stefani shouted. “We walk now.”

Stefani was readying the pack, taking one last look at the map. But Eleanor could only look at the face she’d thought she’d never see again.

“Why are you here? Why didn’t you save yourself?” Eleanor asked. This time her voice actually broke. She was willing to die out here. She hadn’t asked for this life, but she’d had seven years to get used to it—to accept the possibility.

But it should never have been Tahani’s life, and the joy she’d felt when she found her bracelet was gone.

“Tani, why didn’t you run?” she asked again.

She honestly didn’t expect an answer. She certainly wasn’t expecting Tahani to raise her bound hands and throw them around her neck, to plaster her body against her and bring her lips to her mouth as if Eleanor might be holding her last breath.

She’d never kissed Tahani before. Until twenty-four hours ago, she’d never really thought about it. But she’d never cursed her handcuffs more than when she couldn’t hold her, touch her, pull her close and keep her near and never, ever let her go.

Tahani hadn’t run away—hadn’t saved herself—because of this, Eleanor realized. This kiss.

She just didn’t know how right she was until Tahani’s lips parted and the kiss deepened … and Eleanor felt a small piece of metal pass from Tahani’s mouth into her.

Then Tahani pulled back quickly.

She unwound her hands from around her neck, and when Stefani yelled, “Walk!” she did exactly as she was told.

Eleanor’s legs weren’t working right, though. Neither was her head.

Tahani had kissed her.

It was smart, she had to admit. How else could she be sure Stefani wouldn’t find the key when she frisked her? What better way to pass Eleanor the key undetected?

She’d kissed her so that she could save her.

For the life of her, Eleanor had no idea why that made her feel so disappointed.


	13. Chapter 13

_Dear Eleanor,_

_Okay, so I lied. I’m writing you another letter because, turns out, you’re the only person I can really talk to. Even if you don’t talk back. Maybe BECAUSE you don’t talk back._

_If you were here, you’d tell me that I do all the talking anyway. Then I’d point out that you saying otherwise totally negates your own point._

_And then we’d probably argue about it for an hour. Maybe two. And then we’d go get ice cream._

_So I’m gonna keep writing these letters._

_I’m just never going to send them ever again._

_Tahani_

 

Tahani was real.

Tahani was alive.

Tahani was here.

And she was going to get them both killed.

“Oh my gosh! You guys walk so fast,” she said, and for a moment she sounded almost like … Tahani. Or how Tahani used to sound when they were looking for ways to sneak into the Oval or trying to guess the middle names of all of the agents on her dad’s detail. She sounded like Old Tahani. Not Older Tahani. Eleanor never realized how much she’d missed her.

She also never realized just how annoying she could be.

“I mean, it’s no wonder you walk fast. Your legs are a lot longer than mine. How tall are you anyway?”

She turned around to look at Stefani, who had her gun out and pointed at her, but it didn’t seem to faze Tahani. She just kept talking.

“You look tall. I’m only five four. I mean I pretend I’m five five, and I might be in boots. Do you think it counts if you’re in boots?”

She stopped then and studied her. Stefani moved toward her and Eleanor jolted. She wanted to put herself between that gun and Tahani. And she wanted to put something between Tahani and the woman.

“Who did you call?” Stefani snapped. “Who did you tell?”

Tahani actually scooted back, but she didn’t look afraid.

“What are you talking about?”

“Who did you call for help?” Stefani shouted—and this time Tahani looked at her like maybe she was crazy.

“No one. There is no one here!” She threw out her arms and spun around. “There’s never anyone here.”

Stefani didn’t know Tahani like Eleanor did. Or like Eleanor used to know her. She didn’t hear the stress in her voice, didn’t see the hurt in her eyes.

“No.” Stefani shook her head. “You would not be so stupid as to get yourself captured.”

“I don’t know.” Tahani shook her head. “I’m a teenage girl. People think we’re pretty stupid.”

Eleanor knew she was right. Eleanor also knew she didn’t believe a word of it. Only a moron would, and Tahani was no moron. She’d seen enough in the barely twenty-four hours that she’d been here to know that Tahani had survived here—thrived here—for six years, almost entirely on her own. That Tahani was alive was proof enough that Stefani had absolutely no idea who she was dealing with.

That Tahani was smiling proved that she had every intention of keeping it that way.

“I thought I’d follow you, okay?” she went on. “I thought I might be useful.”

Stefani looked at her for a long time, then let out a cold, clear laugh. “Useful how?”

Tahani shrugged. “I know things.”

“I know things, too,” Stefani said, all the laughter gone from her voice. “I know you’re going to be very useful.”

“I’m not going to let you kill her,” Tahani said as if she had a choice in the matter—as if Stefani wasn’t eight inches taller and sixty pounds heavier. As if she didn’t have a gun and at least one knife and probably eight years of experience on her.

But the kind of experience Tahani had was different, and a part of Eleanor warmed at the thought.

“Where are my manners?” Eleanor tried to force as much sarcasm as possible into her voice. “Stefani, kidnapper extraordinaire, meet Tahani Al-Jamil. Tahani, this is the woman who tried to kill you.”

“I will kill her if you get any ideas, Eleanor.”

Eleanor gave a mocking smile. “You know my name. I’m touched.”

“I can’t touch you,” Stefani stated. She sounded honestly disappointed, but then she turned to Tahani, pulled back her hand, and hit her hard across the face. Her head snapped and Eleanor actually heard the blow. She lunged for her, but halted, uncertain, as Tahani stumbled but managed to stay on her feet.

She didn’t make a sound as Stefani finished, “But I can touch her.”

“Leave her alone!” Eleanor yelled, but Stefani pulled Tahani close to her, a human shield.

Her hand was around her throat, fingers not quite squeezing, but close. They could cut off her airway, crush her throat. They’d leave a bruise, Eleanor was certain, and it was just one more reason why she wanted her big, sharp rock back.

“I cannot hurt you, President’s Daughter. But she has no value to me. Do we understand each other?” she asked, but Eleanor didn’t answer. Words didn’t come. “Do we?” Stefani shouted, the force of the words making her body shake and the hand at Tahani’s throat tighten.

Tahani didn’t make a single sound.

“Yes,” Eleanor choked out.

“Good.” Stefani took her arm away and pushed Tahani ahead of her. “Walk.”

 

Tahani’s throat didn’t hurt. Not even a little bit. Her pride didn’t either. Alaska never took it easy on her because she was a girl. Neither did her father. But ticked-off Russians probably didn’t know that. By the look in Eleanor’s eyes, neither did presidents’ sons.

They both kept looking at her like she was just a … girl. Which was the best thing to happen to Tahani all day.

So she batted her eyelashes. She examined her nails. She didn’t really talk again as they moved over the rough, wet ground.

Her hood was still up and pulled tight around her face. Tahani hated to lose her peripheral vision, but she wasn’t going to be any help to anyone if she got sick. That was one lesson people in Alaska learned in a hurry.

“Are you okay?”

Tahani had to turn her head a little to look at Eleanor. She’d never seen her look like that—all stoic and broody and … hot.

She definitely wasn’t going to think about how hot Eleanor looked because:

(A) It was Eleanor!

and

(B) She’d heard stories about girls who met cute girls and then lost their heads, and being that they were currently being held by a knife-wielding, ticked-off Russian, Tahani really didn’t want to find out how literal that saying might be.

But Eleanor still looked worried—that much Tahani couldn’t deny.

“It’s going to be okay,” she told her.

She kept her head down. She didn’t turn again.

The rain was coming down more steadily, and it was possible that the woman couldn’t even hear her, so she risked a little more.

“They’ll find us soon. Don’t worry, Eleanor. Your team must have realized you were gone hours ago. You did a good job leaving a trail, and I left markers—really obvious markers. They’ll find us soon.”

Tahani was sure of it. She knew it in her gut. She’d lived her whole life with a woman devoted to protecting others, and there were some things that all Secret Service agents had in common. They were all smart. And tough. And when they took a vow, they meant it. There was a reason that the Secret Service was the only arm of the US intelligence community that had never had a traitor.

Eleanor’s detail was coming. And when they got there, Tahani only had to make sure she got Eleanor out of the way.

She turned her head. She smiled. She just wasn’t expecting the look on Eleanor’s face.

“They’re not coming.”

Eleanor’s voice was low and she kept her head down, her gaze on the slick ground before them.

“Of course they’re coming, Eleanor. They’re good. I know those guys. Dad trained them.”

“They’re dead, Tani.”

Tahani’s steps actually faltered. There had been a little piece of her—a small sliver of light shining beneath the door of her mind, something telling her that hope was out there. Help was coming.

There had been a tiny voice whispering that she didn’t have to do this alone.

She wasn’t Eleanor’s only chance.

She wasn’t on her own—not really. She just had to keep Eleanor alive until the grown-ups came to take care of things.

But Tahani was the grown-up now, she knew, and she waited for the realization to hit her, for the panic to set in. But the panic didn’t come, and Tahani didn’t know whether to feel relief that she was prepared for this or sadness that being on her own was nothing new.

If Stefani had killed two Secret Service agents, then she wasn’t just evil—she was also good at this. And Tahani didn’t know which thought scared her more.

“Can your dad land in this?” Eleanor asked with a glance toward the sky that was growing darker, the rain that didn’t feel like rain anymore. Tahani tipped her head up and felt the tiny stinging stabs that told her that sometime in the past five minutes the rain had turned to sleet.

Soon the ground would freeze, and the leaves and logs would be covered with ice and, eventually, snow.

“Tani, can your dad—” Eleanor started to repeat.

“I don’t know,” Tahani said. It was an honest answer. It also honestly scared her. “She won’t take a chance. I made her promise that she wouldn’t take any chances.”

“Great.” Eleanor kicked a rock, sent it tumbling down the hill.

Tahani knew exactly what it felt like.

“Help’s gonna come, Eleanor,” Tahani said. Tahani lied.

The weather was going to get worse and the night was going to be long, but the promise of help could be warmer than any fire, Tahani was certain.

“Okay,” Eleanor said. “But even if she does land in this, what’s she gonna do? Drag herself through the woods to … what? Find us?”

“Yes,” Tahani said.

“She can’t find us.” Eleanor shook her head, but Tahani reached out and grabbed her arm.

They both had bound hands, but that just meant that both of her hands gripped both of her, like they were sharing some kind of solemn vow.

“I found you,” she reminded her.

For a moment, Eleanor smiled. But then the smile faded. She shook her head and pulled away, started walking before Stefani could have an excuse or an opportunity to strike again.

“You should have run, Tani.”

“I did run. Right to you.” She shrugged. “Someone has to keep you alive until help comes.”

“Help’s not coming.”

Tahani knew better than to argue. So she tried a different angle. “Who is she?”

She didn’t look back as she asked it. She just kept her head down, her face shielded against the sting of the falling ice.

“She’s Russian,” Eleanor said, as if that was all that mattered.

“You mean like …”

Tahani didn’t say six years ago. She didn’t have to. That incident was never far from her mind, and it couldn’t have been far from Eleanor’s either. It had changed both of their lives in so many ways. Eleanor might have been the one who’d been grazed by a bullet, but she knew they both had scars.

“Yeah,” Eleanor said. “Just like that.”

“What else?” Tahani asked. She needed details, data. Before the president went anywhere, an advance team spent weeks going over an area with a fine-tooth comb. Facts mattered. Information mattered. And Tahani needed every speck of it that she could get.

“She’s got a sat phone,” Eleanor told her. “She’s been speaking to someone. She doesn’t know I can speak Russian.”

“You can speak Russian!”

“Keep your voice down.”

This time, Tahani whispered. “You can speak Russian?”

“Yes. I learned a lot in six years.”

Tahani wanted to scoff and roll her eyes and yell at her and at the world, but she just kept walking. “Yeah. So did I.”

When they passed a low bush covered with berries, Tahani said a silent prayer of thanks that the weather had been so wacky.

She pulled a bunch of berries off as quickly as she could and pushed them in Eleanor’s direction.

“Here. Eat these.” She helped herself to some as Eleanor eyed her.

“They could be poisonous.”

Well, the berries weren’t going to kill her, but Tahani’s look could have, so she did as she was told.

“I don’t know who she’s working for,” Eleanor admitted. The berries must have hit her bloodstream, a fresh shot of sugar and adrenaline and hope that lasted until Eleanor admitted, “And I don’t know where she’s taking me.”

This time, Tahani smiled. “That’s okay.” She plopped a berry in her mouth. “I do.”


	14. Chapter 14

_Dear Eleanor,_

_Someday I’m going to write a book: How Not to Die in Alaska—A Girl’s Guide to Fashionable Survival._

_I bet you don’t know that a bobby pin can make an excellent fishing hook. You may think you can use just any kind of mud for mud masks, but trust me, you CAN’T! In a pinch, nothing starts a fire like nail polish remover._

_And don’t even get me started on the lifesaving properties of a good pair of pantyhose._

_So I know a lot, in other words._

_I just don’t know why I’m still writing you these letters._

 

“I want you to get away.”

At first, Tahani wasn’t sure that Eleanor was talking to her. She could have been talking to herself, after all. She used to do that when they were kids. She’d mumble under her breath during tests at school or while they were eating snacks on the stairs or even while they huddled together in a tent on the lawn of the White House, pretending like they were on safari.

Tahani was used to the sound of Eleanor’s voice, low and under her breath when she didn’t think anyone was listening.

But Tahani was always listening.

“Tahani? Listen, I want you to get away.”

“Shh,” she warned, but she didn’t look back at the woman with the gun. And the knife. And the mysterious vendetta or cause.

“I’m going to undo the cuffs,” Eleanor said. She gestured to the pocket where she’d placed the key. After the kiss.

Tahani absolutely did not let herself think about the kiss.

“She won’t be expecting it. When I jump her, you can—”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You’ve got to leave me, Tahani.” Eleanor risked a glance behind her. “She’ll hurt you.”

They couldn’t stop.

It was getting too dark and the rain wasn’t rain anymore. Ice was falling from the sky and collecting on the ground, covering fallen logs and the layer of leaves that blanketed the forest floor. Rocks were slick and sharp beneath their feet.

Tahani absolutely did not have time to stop and tell Eleanor she was an idiot.

But she really, really wanted to.

Mostly, she wanted her to feel as awful as she did.

“I’ve been hurt before, Eleanor. I’m getting pretty good at it.”

But before she could turn and saunter off into the forest, point made, Eleanor took her hands in her. “They need me alive, Tani. They don’t need you. They will hurt you.”

“You need me,” she said.

She watched the words wash over her, sink in. She saw how badly she wanted to shrug and argue, say that she didn’t need a stupid girl to help her.

Which just showed how badly the opposite was true.

“You don’t get it, Tani—” she said instead.

“No. You don’t get it.”

“Tahani—” Eleanor started, but Tahani was already turning around.

Shouting, “Mr. Kidnapper Man?”

She could practically hear Stefani’s groan, but she still asked “What?”

“I need to go,” she told her.

Her gruff laugh cut through the air. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“No.” Tahani crossed her legs. She bobbed up and down in the age-old way of two-year-olds everywhere. “I mean I need to go go.”

Tahani never had the chance to learn Russian, but she knew a curse word when she heard one, no matter the language.

Loosely translated, it meant girls are so annoying.

On this, at least, she and Eleanor seemed to have found common ground.

“Fine,” the woman spat out after a moment. “We break.”

They’d reached the side of the hill where the vegetation was thicker and the wind wasn’t as strong. Tahani moved toward the thick bushes that were quickly turning white with ice.

“Stop!” the woman yelled. Reluctantly, Tahani turned.

She actually rolled her eyes.

“Um … I’m mad at her”—she pointed at Eleanor—“and I don’t know you, so I’m gonna need a little privacy.”

The woman looked at Eleanor again, as if she needed someone to explain stupid American females to her, but Eleanor only shrugged.

“Look,” Tahani said, “I get it. You’re a bad guy. You might not have any qualms about killing people, but I bet even you have the decency to let a sixteen-year-old girl pee in peace.”

“Tahani …” Eleanor warned, but Tahani wasn’t in the mood to listen.

Instead, she stepped closer to the woman with the gun.

Stefani was strong. Athletic. Young. And she moved with such sure, easy grace that Tahani might have been impressed under any other circumstances. But these circumstances were far from normal.

In a flash, the knife was in her hand and she was moving toward her. Tahani saw Eleanor register the movement, but Stefani was too fast and too strong. When she grabbed her bound wrists and thrust the knife toward her, she didn’t fight it. Even as Eleanor screamed “No!”

In the next moment Tahani’s wrists were free. Blood was rushing back to her cold hands and they started to tingle and burn; she moved her fingers just to prove that she still could.

Eleanor, on the other hand, stood staring.

The woman jerked her head toward the bushes and kept her knife on Eleanor.

“If you run, just remember: There are parts of her I do not need at all.”

Pushing through the thick brush, Tahani heard her name. She spun back to look at Eleanor, who looked like maybe she’d never see her again.

“I’m not worth it,” she told her.

She smiled. “I know.”

Then she turned and pushed through the trees. Ice clung to branches, weighing them down and covering the forest in shiny, frosty sequins. It was like the whole world had been bedazzled, and Tahani could at least appreciate that aspect of it.

She was just starting to push aside a particularly shiny limb when something bolted out in front of her.

No.

Someone.

And Tahani didn’t think about anything else.

She screamed.

 

When Eleanor heard the scream, she thought that it was over.

She just wasn’t exactly sure what “it” was.

Maybe this long, terrible trek to an even more terrible fate. Maybe the fear that had been growing inside of her for hours.

But, no, Eleanor realized. What was over was the charade she was playing that Tahani wasn’t the most important thing in the world to her right then—the idea that she hadn’t been that for ages.

She didn’t look at the woman with the gun for permission. She didn’t think about herself. She just burst through the dense trees and bushes, sliding over the slick ground, not caring about the ice.

It was a scream of shock and terror and it didn’t matter to Eleanor what might happen to her. All she knew was that the bravest girl in the world sounded terrified.

And it was all her fault.

“Tahani!” she shouted, but she didn’t hear anything back.

It was almost night, and the only light was that of a quickly fading dusk.

“Tahani!”

“It’s okay.”

When Eleanor heard her voice, she stopped and bent at the waist, hands on knees. She thought her heart might beat out of her chest.

“Tahani, where—”

“It’s okay,” a voice yelled. “It’s just me.”

The woman who pushed through the brush wasn’t as tall as the kidnapper, but she wore a thick coat and a wide-brimmed hat that kept the sleet at bay. She smiled at them, like maybe she’d been looking for them for hours.

But she hadn’t. Eleanor could tell.

“Sorry to scare you folks. I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone else out here. I can tell I’m not the only one.”

Eleanor felt Stefani’s eyes on her, saw the subtle shake of her head.

Then Eleanor noticed the firearm in a holster at the other woman’s waist.

“Which begs the question, what are you folks doing out here?” the woman asked.

Eleanor saw Tahani standing just past the woman’s shoulder. She could actually see her thinking, planning.

“Nature hike,” she said, and Eleanor felt Stefani coming up behind her. She felt the gun at her back.

“What are you doing here?” Stefani asked.

“Oh, just checking on things before the storm settles in and makes itself at home,” the woman said. She was dressed like a forest ranger. It made sense that some people would be posted in this vast wilderness, but Eleanor had never imagined they might cross paths with one.

“I think you folks are a long way from where you’re supposed to be,” the woman said. “No one should be out here on a night like this.”

There was some kind of war waging within Stefani—Eleanor could feel it.

Eleanor had pulled the sleeves of her jacket down to protect her freezing hands, and that, coupled with the dim and fading light, meant that the ranger probably had no idea that Eleanor’s hands were bound. Tahani was running around, apparently free.

Did this woman know that she’d just stumbled upon the kidnapping of the century? Had some kind of alarm been raised? Was every ranger within a hundred miles out looking for the first daughter right then?

Or was this simply sheer dumb luck?

“Are you lost?” The ranger looked right at Stefani. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes,” Stefani said. “I do.”

But she wasn’t talking about the route they were taking, the best tricks for staying warm and dry.

Stefani’s voice had taken on an otherworldly quality as she said it, as if she’d been pulled back into some deep sleep.

Then she raised her gun.

She fired.

Once.

Twice.

And the ranger fell.

“No!” Tahani yelled, rushing toward the woman. She clawed at her body, trying to turn her over, pull her face out of the ice and the mud. Trying to help her.

But she was too big and Tahani was too small, too cold. And Stefani was already there, ripping her away from the woman and slinging her across the ice-covered floor of the woods.

She scampered back, crawling away. As if it were possible to escape, but whatever hope she might have had died when Stefani grabbed Tahani by the arm and jerked her to her feet.

When she pushed her toward Eleanor, she didn’t say a word. She just threw her arms around Eleanor’s waist and held her tight.

They held each other as if it might possibly be the last thing they’d ever do.

She didn’t think a thing about it when she slid her hands beneath her jacket except to register that her hands felt warmer than they should, that they felt right. That maybe it was all worth it just to have this moment.

“I was so scared,” she told her. “When you screamed, I …”

But Eleanor trailed off when she felt her slide something beneath the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back, where the tail of her coat would hide it.

She pulled back and looked down into her eyes.

And she knew.

She risked a quick glance at the ranger’s body on the ground.

The empty holster.

Eleanor wasn’t sure whether she should be happy that they had a gun now or mad because this was almost as disappointing as the kiss.


	15. Chapter 15

_Dear Eleanor,_

_Remember when we were friends?_

_I do. But sometimes, honestly, I’d give anything to forget._

_Tahani_

The gun rubbed against the small of Eleanor’s back with every step she took. It didn’t scrape. It didn’t hurt. It burned.

She’d never understood the phrase burning a hole in your pocket until then. She’d never known just how much self-restraint could hurt.

But her hands were bound in front of her, and she couldn’t easily reach the gun without unclasping her cuffs. And Tahani had told her not to. In a way, she was far scarier than the very ticked-off Russian.

She wasn’t even breathing hard as they climbed. Her footsteps never faltered, even once the ground was covered with sleet. Tahani knew that terrain.

But, most of all, Tahani had a plan.

If there was anything close to a home court advantage, she had it, and Eleanor tried to be smart. She tried to be patient.

She tried to forget the way Tahani had pressed against her, the feel of her hands at her back.

She tried to pretend like every single thing in her life wasn’t changing. But Eleanor was smarter than anyone knew. Which meant that Eleanor knew that nothing in her life was ever going to be the same again.

“We have a gun,” she whispered.

“Calm down, city girl. We have a flare gun, in case you didn’t notice.”

Eleanor hadn’t noticed, but she wasn’t as disappointed as she should have been. Right then, the gun part was the only part that mattered.

But Tahani wasn’t so sure. “This means one shot. One shot means we have to be smart about it.”

“Tahani—”

“Listen to me, Eleanor. Listen now. You have to do what I tell you. When I say something you can’t ask what. You can’t ask why. You can’t argue. And for the love of all that is holy, you cannot try some stupid heroic move that is only going to get us both killed. Okay? You have to listen to me.”

“Okay,” she said, partly to make her stop talking. Stefani was close, and even though it was dark and the sleet was falling harder, it was so quiet out there that even a whisper seemed to echo for an hour.

“No. Eleanor, listen to me. You have to do exactly what I say exactly when I say it. Promise me.”

“I promise,” she said, and she nodded like maybe—just maybe—she might be in the mood to believe her.

She put her head down and kept trudging through the storm, and for a moment Eleanor thought that maybe everything was going to be okay, but then Tahani stumbled to a stop. When she spun, there was terror in her eyes.

“No!” she screamed.

Behind them, Stefani kept walking. She nudged her forward. “We do not stop here.”

But Tahani was shaking her head, shouting, “I know where you’re taking us.”

“You know what I need you to know.”

“I know that map is about twenty years out of date.” She pointed at the folded pieces of plastic-covered paper sticking out from the pocket of her pack.

“Walk,” she ordered.

“No.”

“Tani—” Eleanor tried, but she pulled away from her and kept glaring up at Stefani, a look of rage—or maybe fear—in her eyes.

“If you think we’re going to cross it, you’re crazy. Or you have a death wish. Or both.”

“Tani?” Eleanor had no idea what she was talking about, but Tahani was too frantic to fill her in.

“You’re crazy!” she shouted. “We should go to Black Bear Bridge. I mean, it’s not a bridge made of black bears, don’t worry. But it’s about twenty years newer and a hundred times safer—and if you haven’t already noticed, we’re not exactly dealing with ideal conditions here.”

“What are you talking about?” Eleanor snapped. She was hungry and she was cold and frustration was coming off of her in waves.

But Tahani kept her gaze locked on Stefani. “Look, I know you don’t care about me. And you probably don’t even care about yourself. I get that. But you care about her.” She pointed at Eleanor. “And she’s not going to do you any good if she’s at the bottom of a hundred-foot ravine, smashed into about a million little icy pieces.” That part at least seemed to hit its mark. “I don’t want to die. And you need her alive. So please. Let’s just go to Black Bear Bridge.”

Eleanor watched Stefani consider this. “How far is this Black Bear Bridge?” the Russian asked.

“It’s not too far.”

“How far?” Stefani snapped.

Tahani couldn’t meet her gaze. “It’s only a half day’s walk.”

“A half day’s walk?” Stefani asked. “Under good conditions?”

Tahani had to nod.

“We go my way,” Stefani said, and pushed forward.

 

“Let her go back,” Eleanor was still pleading with Stefani ten minutes later. “It’ll take her a day to walk back to her cabin, and you and I will be long gone by then, won’t we? I mean, that’s why we can’t go to this other bridge, right? Because we’re on a deadline here? Then let her go. You don’t need her.”

“Yes. I do.”

Some faces just weren’t supposed to smile. Stefani’s was one of them, Tahani decided. Because when she grinned at Eleanor’s words, it had an eerie effect, like she was ten moves away from checkmate and she was the only one who could see it. It made Tahani’s heart pound harder, her hands want to shake. She wanted to reach for her own rock and take her chances, but that wasn’t the smart play.

And they were currently in the middle of almost twenty million acres of wilderness with heavy precipitation and falling temperatures and absolutely no help on the way.

They didn’t have time for stupid.

But that didn’t wipe the smile from Stefani’s face. It didn’t dampen the fire that was burning inside of Eleanor.

“What’s so funny?” Eleanor snapped. “Just let her go!”

It might have been sweet. Or heroic. Or even romantic—if Stefani hadn’t taken a few more steps and then turned on them. The hill was tall and steep. Landslides and glaciers had scraped away huge chunks where no trees grew and the snow and the rain didn’t stick. A river ran beneath them, curving through the forest like a snake. Freezing rain kept falling and the water down below was from the melting glaciers, which meant even in the middle of summer it was cold.

In good conditions, with the right gear, a person could climb down there. Maybe wade across if she had a death wish. But that would take time … and time was one of many things they didn’t have.

And that’s what brought them here—to a tenuous lifeline that ran between this hill and the next. Even in the darkness and the sleet it practically glowed, probably because it was covered with ice and looked like something that a Disney princess might have summoned and built with her two hands. In the remaining traces of light it practically glistened, shining like crystals. But Tahani knew what lay underneath.

Ropes ran across the gorge. Wooden planks had once been placed at regular intervals, spanning the two hundred feet of the bridge. But there had been too much rain, too much snow. Too many hot summer days and strong mountain winds in the twenty or so years since anyone stopped caring. No one ever came here. No one who did come here would forget that there was another, safer bridge not too terribly far away.

No one would be stupid enough to cross.

“I need your girlfriend, President’s Daughter,” Stefani said. “I need her to go across that bridge and show us how safe it is.”

Safe wasn’t a word that had been used to describe it in over a decade. Maybe longer. Long before she and her father had moved to Alaska. She had heard about this bridge, about how the parks department meant to come tear it down every summer, but with cutbacks and budget freezes it got delayed every year. Besides, it’s not like anyone ever came here. It’s not like anyone would ever be stupid enough—desperate enough—to try to cross it.

“She’s not going across that,” Eleanor said. She positioned her body in between Tahani and Stefani.

“Eleanor?” Tahani’s voice was smaller than it should have been.

“She’s not doing it! She’s not some kind of puppet. She’s—”

“Eleanor?” Tahani tried again, but she was staring daggers into Stefani.

“We need you alive,” Stefani reminded Eleanor. “So the girl can go or the girl can die here.”

Stefani pulled her gun from her waistband and pointed it in Tahani’s direction, but Eleanor was already shielding her.

Like she cared.

She just hadn’t cared enough to write.

“Move,” Stefani ordered.

“Eleanor?”

“You’re not going to hurt her!” Eleanor shouted.

But Tahani just threw up her hands. “Really!”

Eleanor seemed to remember exactly who was behind her. That she was a real person with a voice and opinions. She wasn’t some ideal.

“Eleanor, listen to me.” She grabbed her by the collar and pulled her close. Luckily Stefani had never retied her hands, so she was able to wrap her arms around her, feel her one more time.

“I’ll be okay,” she said.

“No, Tani. You can’t do this.”

But that was exactly the wrong thing to say because she pulled back. She actually cocked an eyebrow. “Watch me.”

Eleanor wasn’t willing to let her go. She took her arm. “No, Tani. I’m not going to let you.”

“You’re not letting me,” she said, but when Eleanor dragged her closer she didn’t fight. She didn’t squirm or scream or push her away. No. That might have tipped Stefani off to exactly how formidable she was.

Yes. Exactly. That had to be why Tahani didn’t resist at all when Eleanor pulled her body right up against her and said, “I’m not going to lose you again.”

She even sounded like she meant it.

She looked into her eyes. “That’s not a bridge, Tani. It’s suicide.”

“Do you trust me?” Tahani asked.

“Hurry up!” Stefani yelled.

“Eleanor, do you trust me?” she asked again, urgent now. Time was running out. In a lot of ways.

And Eleanor nodded.

So Tahani went up on her tiptoes and pressed a warm kiss to Eleanor’s cold cheek.

Then she whispered in her ear, “Step exactly where I step. And be ready.”

She could see the question in her eyes: Ready for what? But she was at least smart enough not to say it aloud. Instead, she seemed to hold her breath.

And watch.

The ground at the mouth of the bridge was flat and wide and, by that point, covered with at least an inch of ice and snow. It actually crunched beneath Tahani’s feet, tiny ice pellets grinding into almost nothing, pressing hard against the ground and getting slicker with every moment. Surely that was why she took a huge step, an awkward lunging jump that seemed to bypass as much of that space in front of the bridge as possible. But she was steady and sure on her feet as she eased toward the posts that stuck up from the ground. She reached out for them and pulled, relieved when they didn’t wiggle. Then she gave one last look back.

“Eleanor?”

“You don’t have to do it, Tani,” she said again, but she shook her head.

“Did you get my letters?” Maybe she was a fool for stepping out onto that bridge, but she couldn’t do it without knowing. Once and for all.

She shook her head. “What letters?”

And then it was Tahani’s turn to smile, but it was one without joy.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” she said.

When Tahani took a step, the first board was so slick that she actually skidded. There wasn’t any traction, and Tahani had to grip the braces at the mouth of the bridge to steady herself. She almost fell to her knees.

“Tahani!” Eleanor yelled and lunged forward, but she looked back and shook her off.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just … exactly.” She mouthed the last word and stared into her eyes, willing her to hear her, see her. Believe her, knowing that for the first time in her life someone needed to follow in her footsteps.

When she was steady on her feet again, she tried the next board. And the next.

The third one creaked, but it seemed steady enough, so Tahani risked shifting her weight, only to have it splinter beneath her. But her hold on the rope handles held.

The old rope was freezing. As she moved her hand, ice slid off of the coarse bristles and bit into her cold skin. She was like a tiny, one-woman snowplow, clearing the way.

One step. Then another. Some of the boards were missing. Others hung at odd angles, and with the ice she didn’t trust herself not to slip and fall. Only once did she have to jump, but Tahani was part goat, her father always said, and she landed lightly on the other side.

She risked a glance back at Eleanor.

“It’s solid,” she yelled. She might have even meant it.

But Eleanor was shaking her head. “Tahani, come back.”

“Keep going!” Stefani shouted. Her gun was out and pointed at Eleanor’s back.

“Eleanor, come on,” Tahani called to her.

“Tani—”

“Eleanor, you have to trust me. Please.”

Maybe it was the please that did it. But she took one last look at Stefani, then moved toward the bridge.


End file.
